


Perceive This

by ameh



Category: Angels & Airwaves, Blink-182
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-08-11 16:36:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 26,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7899967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ameh/pseuds/ameh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stories about the songs on "We Don't Need To Whisper" by Angels and Airwaves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Valkyrie Missile

** This is so strange. I want to wish for something new.  This is the scariest thing I’ve ever done in my life. **

          Leaving blink-182 was the scariest thing Tom Delonge had ever done.  It meant his whole life was changing. It meant he was alone.   _It meant he was without Mark._  He had been with Mark since he was 16, how the fuck was he supposed to act like this was okay?  
          These wonderful pills and alcohol.  That’s how.  Two Vicoden absorbed into his sytem, maybe now he could get through this.  He felt so fucking weak, relying on these pills to get through the day.  
          ”Keep going forward, don’t look back,” everyone would say.  That’s all fine and dandy, sure, but what did he have to look forward to anymore?  Every morning, he had to wake up and face the reality that Mark was gone.   **Mark was in the past** , and that’s where Tom wanted to be.  Right back with Mark, playing blink-182 songs with that goofy smile stuck to his face.  
           _Why was this so hard?_  Tom was the one that left, after all.  He had this whole new life ahead of him, a life where he could start over, and he didn’t want a single part of it.

** Everyone, everyone will listen, even if it hurts sometimes.  If you will, come and hear the message. **

          ”You better fucking listen to this album, Hoppus.  I swear, it’s such a dick move if you don’t.”  It wasn’t uncommon for Tom to talk to himself these days.  
          Truth is, Tom was writing this album for Mark.  He was reaching out, looking desperately for some strand of hope to grasp on to.  This album would mean nothing if Mark never heard it.  He wanted nothing more than to beg and plead with him, please, just fucking listen to it, just hear what I have to say, please.  
          If Tom knew Mark at all, which he was fairly certain he did after spending half his life with the man, he knew Mark would listen to this album.  If for no other reason than curiosity, just to see what Tom gave up blink for.  
           _What Tom gave up Mark for._

** Everyone wants to learn to love again, open up and come alive.  Do you think that you have that in you? **

          Of course that’s how Mark saw it.  Mark saw it as Tom leaving him to start Angels and Airwaves.  He saw it as Tom leaving him to find love elsewhere, to have a life without him.  Why shouldn’t he see it that way?  That’s how it appeared to everyone; all the kids, the fans they’d worked so hard for and loved for years.  
          None of them knew what went on behind closed doors.  None of them knew how emotionally invested in this they were.  None of them knew how much Tom was hurting.  
           _And none of them knew that Tom had lost his desire to love anything._  That desire was left behind when he destroyed everyone’s lives.

** Leave your pain on the bedroom floor again. Bring a smile to survive.  Do you think that you have that in you? **

          He was okay with leaving everyone else in the dark.  They didn’t need to know how fucked up his head was now.  They didn’t need to know he’d lost his will to live.  To the public, he was sure of himself.  He was confident, smiling, able to move forward with ease.  
          All thanks to these pills, these lovely little blocks of personality that he would take and transform into a different person.  
          Tom stared down at the pills in his hand.  Three more should do it for now.  You know, the pills weren’t small at all.  They were actually rather large and uncomfortable to swallow.  After doing it enough, though, he’d gotten the hang of it.  They weren’t always white, either.  This particular bottle was green.  Generic.  
          Didn’t matter, they did the trick.  The cracks in his fake smile were being masked by the minute.

** Got a lot, oh a hell of a lot to say, even if it hurts sometimes. **

          That fake smile was something Tom had practiced, perfected, even before the end of blink.  It frustrated him that he even had a fake smile, what the fuck had his life turned into?  Everything was all a big charade anymore.  It made Tom sick to his stomach.  
          Or maybe that was just the alcohol not sitting well with the pills he’d just thrown into his system.  He shrugged it off.  Not like it mattered anyway.  
          At the end, Mark had stopped listening, completely shut Tom out.   _Why?_  They were always able to tell each other anything, they were able to be open and honest and true.  So why did Mark feel like he couldn’t come to Tom if he was hurting?  When Tom tried to get him to open up, he would put up that fucking wall of silence, that unbreakable defensive bullshit he’d built.. the same wall he put up whenever Tom tried to get him to listen to what he had to say.  
           **It hurt.**  It hurt so fucking bad when Mark would shrug off what Tom was saying, and eventually that pain made Tom give up trying.  
          Mark couldn’t shut him up this time.  Sure, he could ignore the album, but Tom couldn’t let himself entertain that thought.  No, these were all things Mark needed to hear, all things that Tom had been trying to get him to talk about when they were together.  So what if it fucking hurt, Tom was hurt, _he was destroyed_ , he needed Mark to listen to the pieces he had left.

** A perfect life for a perfect brand new day, and we’re the next in line.  Do you think that you have that in you? **

          That’s what Mark thought this was about, surely.  Tom’s “perfect life” with his “perfect family.”  No relationship to bother hiding anymore.  No more secrets.  
           **It was never that.**  Okay, yeah, maybe it was bothersome to always hide how much he loved Mark.  Maybe he’d wanted to go public with it a few times, and Mark didn’t.  There were times when Mark thought it was a good idea to come out about it, too, and Tom didn’t.  
          Honestly, Tom was the one that wanted a perfect family?  Fuck no, he wasn’t.  He just wanted to be there for his daughter.  Why wouldn't Mark let that happen?  It all just got too big, and their relationship took the fall for it.  
          Regardless, at the end of the day, he didn’t care about the secrets.  As long as he had Mark.  That’s all he truly cared about.   _Just Mark._

** Take a chance ‘cause I know you want to. **

_Hot.  Sunny and fucking hot.  That’s all there really was to say about this day.  Then again, that was typical weather for southern California, and Tom had grown accustomed to it.  In fact, he_ welcomed _it.  He missed it when he was away for too long._  
          _He smirked.  Whoo’da thunk it?  Missing this shithole.  It was home, though, so fucking sue him._  
 _Out of nowhere, a ball of paper smacked him square in the face._  
 _”What the fuck?  Hey, look here, asswipe, my face is not a target.”  The piece of paper went flying back across the room towards Mark’s head, where the blue eyed bassist sat with a stupid smile on his face._  
 _That stupid fucking smile, Tom thought.  He loved it, really, he was a total and complete slave to Mark when he smiled like that._  
 _”Whatcha writin’ over there, Tommyboy?”  Mark crawled over and laid in front of him on the floor, snatching the paper and reading over it.  Tom couldn’t even stop him, fuck, why did Mark **do** that?!  Maybe that was a private fucking thing he wrote, maybe he was writing a love letter, maybe it was a fucked up sexual fantasy involving a donkey in Hong Kong, maybe it was a picture of tits!  Ha, who was he kidding, he would’ve shown Mark if it was any one of those things, or if it was anything else._  
 _”..Wow, dude, I don’t even.. this is beautiful,” he said when he finished, looking up at Tom with a serious look in those beautiful blue eyes._  
 _If he only knew.  If he only fucking knew that every sappy love song he wrote was about him.  Tom felt himself blushing, time to make a joke._  
 _”Yeah, I just couldn’t stop thinking of your dad and how awesome he was last night, that’s all.  That man is a natural in bed, too bad you didn’t take after him.”  Nice save, Delonge._  
 _”Fuuuck you.  Seriously, this song, Tom, this fucking song..  Dude, the way you write blows me away sometimes.”_

          A sigh escaped his lips, and he rested his face in his hands.  Mark had always loved the way Tom said things, the way he wrote certain feelings into words.  He wrote with so much emotion, Mark said once that he could crush someone’s entire soul in one line.   _Bet he never thought that one day, he would be on the receiving end of that line._  
          Mark.  This album would hurt him, and that’s really the last thing Tom wanted.  He couldn’t help it, though.  These things needed to be said, they needed to be heard.  He needed Mark to hear all of it.  Maybe it wouldn’t hurt so bad in the end.  Maybe, if he actually listened to the whole album, Mark would hear what he needed, too.  
          Even if it took time, even if he wasn’t able to listen to it all at once, Tom knew Mark well enough to know that his curiosity always got the best of him.  He had to keep thinking that, for his own sake.  Whether it was the part about his curiosity, or the part about knowing Mark so well, he didn’t know.  All he knew was that thought brought him a bit of comfort.

** If only you’ll hold on, just hold on.  I’m here, and I’m with you.  I’m here, too.  I feel you.  We’ll get through.  I know this, I’ve seen it a hundred times, a thousand times. **

          All in all, he knew he’d hurt Mark.  All the years they spend together, all the bullshit they’d gone through.. all the trust, all the whispers and hushed conversations and secrets and feelings and fuck, why did he leave again?  
           _”Two more shots down the hatch, you can fucking do this.”_  
          Mark was always stronger than Tom.  He knew that Mark wasn’t sitting around drinking and getting high to deal with his thoughts.  No, Mark was out being productive, caring for his family, having his friends, making new music.   **Music without Tom.**  
          That’s how Tom always dealt with pain.  Music.  That’s what this album would do for him.  He hoped, at least.  He hoped that with the completion of this album, it wouldn’t hurt as much anymore.  This could be his way of letting the pain go - of letting **Mark** go.  
           _This album would be his goodbye._

** Just one more time with you and I.  I’ll hold you close, and then we’ll say goodbye. **

          Goodbye to the life he used to know.  Goodbye to the times when he was truly happy.  Goodbye to the person he used to be.   _Goodbye to blink-182._  
          Goodbye to Mark.


	2. Distraction

** There’s a field nearby with words written in stone.  “My love will not die.  Please let it be known.” **

          Tom let his cigarette rest in the ashtray as he leaned back and exhaled a cloud of smoke.  Since when had he started smoking?  What a turn of events.  He was always the one gettin on Mark’s case for smoking.

           _”You know that shit is going to kill you one day, asshole,” Tom said with an elbow to Mark’s side.  
          ”No, Delonge, you’ll be what kills me first.”  
          ”The fuck is that supposed to mean?”  
          ”If you’ll recall, shortly after I met you, I jumped off a light pole.  _ For you. _To impress your lame ass.”  Mark smirked as Tom giggled at the thought.  He would never let Tom live that down, he held it over his head every chance he got.  Not out of spite, he just knew Tom got a kick out of that memory._  
          _”Excuuuse me, Hoppus, but I didn’t **make** you do that.”  Tom was always animated when he spoke, and it made Mark smile that stupid grin that gave the younger boy butterflies._  
 _”You always make me do the craziest shit.  I swear, when we’re old men with grey hair and wrinkles, we’ll have all these outrageous stories to tell, and they’ll always start off the same way - with you getting a wild hair up your ass to do something ridiculous.”_  
 _Tom laughed and knocked the cigarette out of Mark’s hand.  “Quit smoking these nasty fucking things so you’ll live long enough to tell those stories with me.  You’re crazy if you think I’m going to get all old and gross by myself.”_  
 _Then, just like Mark always did at the right times, that asshole, he looked Tom in the eyes and let himself be serious for a moment.  “I promise I’ll still be right here when you’re old and gross and smelly, Tom.”_

          He sighed.  Mark.  Mark.  Mark.  Everything always came back to him, that fucktard.  Months of not speaking, and that fucker still pushed his way into every single one of Tom’s thoughts.  How could he let go of all those years?  All those memories, all the good times.. how was he supposed to forget that?  No one really expected him to go on and live the rest of his life happily, did they?   _How can you do that when half of who you are has been ripped away?_

** This place is dead.  It echoes through town.  There isn’t one voice.  I haven’t heard a sound. **

          It’s not like Tom didn’t try.  He had to keep reminding himself that.  He did try, as hard as he could, but Mark wasn’t having it.  He had to remember that he wasn’t alone in the destruction of everything he held dear.  
           _This is where it got him._  Alone in a dark room, with a piece of paper, a pen, and eyes that ached from lack of sleep, or maybe crying.  Maybe or maybe not.  Both, perhaps.  Tom didn’t know anymore.  
           Couple more pills washed down with a shot of whiskey.  He tried to think of how many pills he just took, but gave up.  What did it matter?  There weren’t enough painkillers in the world to make this better.  That didn’t stop him from trying, though.  
          ”I need a fucking distraction,” he said aloud to himself, only leading to the next heartbreaking flood of memories.

** When the smoke comes in, it’ll colour this town, but I’ll still have you, so I’ll say it aloud. **

          It was something they always did for each other when they were stressed.  If Mark saw Tom was getting too overwhelmed in the studio or too stressed out by life in general, he would pull him aside and tell him he needed a distraction.  Somehow, Mark knew just how to get Tom’s mind off of everything else.  He loved that about him.  
          It wasn’t a one-sided deal, either.  If Tom ever noticed Mark getting frustrated over anything, he would offer the same idea.  “Let me distract you from all of this shit for a while,” he would say, lopsided grin plastered to his face.  Mark always obliged, and no matter the situation, they would wake up in each other’s arms the next morning.

_Things with Jen had been rocky, at best, and Tom was having the worst writer’s block ever due to all the stress he was dealing with because of her.  Mark basically kidnapped him one day - showed up at his house, demanded he got in the car, and said he already had a bag packed for him.  
          ”Mark, what the fuck?  It’s like nine in the morning, where are we even going?”  
          ”Shut up and get in.  You need a distraction, _ I’ll be your distraction. _”  
          Before he knew what was going on, Tom was in the car, and they were on their way to whothefuckknowswhere.  It didn’t matter, really, because he trusted Mark.  His hand snuck its way into Tom’s and squeezed.  Tom smiled.  He knew Mark would make everything okay.  
          A boat.  That was Mark’s genius idea to make him feel better.   **A fucking boat.**  Tom chuckled to himself as he climbed the ladder onto the deck and walked into the single room that acted as kitchen/bedroom/living room.  He should’ve known, this was such a Mark thing to do.  Mark loved the water, so he was near it anytime he got the chance.  Looking around the room, Tom noticed it was stocked with all his favourite video game systems, all his favourite space movies, and Star Wars.  Fucking Star Wars.  
          _ Good planning, Hoppus. _  
That was their weekend.  They played video games until their eyes crossed (Tom always won, because he would cover Mark’s eyes whenever he was too close to winning), they watched more movies than they cared to remember, and they would end up watching the stars every night.  That’s when the feelings came out.  
          ”Mark, do you think reincarnation happens?”  Tom was one to say whatever crossed his mind in those moments.  
          ”I don’t know, man.  I mean, I pissed off one of my teachers really bad in high school, and a couple years after she died, I got this dog.  Remember José?  Mean little fucker.  Totally hated me.  That dog had the same pissed off look in her eyes as that teacher did when I was being hilarious.  I bet reincarnation had something to do with that.”  
          Tom grinned.  _Leave it to Mark to make a joke. _“What if like, we died one day and came back as aliens on some total other planet?  Wouldn’t that be some crazy shit? Like a planet made of marshmallows, or one without food.”_  
          _”Well, we’d be some skinny fucking aliens.”  They both laughed and glanced at each other, eyes locking and keeping contact._  
 _”You think we’d know each other then too, if we were aliens?”_  
 _Mark sighed and put his forehead to Tom’s, never breaking eye contact.  “Pretty sure you’re stuck with me, Tommy, alien or not.”_

** The friendship we made is a waste of our time. There’s no one left here to show a future that’s kind. **

          ”If only I’d known how full of shit you were, Mark.  Fuck.”  Tom spoke to any empty room.  Wait, was this anger?   _Was he angry?_  
          Of course he was angry.  The only person in the world that really understood him was gone.  They were best friends.   **Best fucking friends.**  All those years of being best friends, you’d think Mark would be able to tell Tom he didn’t like what he was doing.  
          You’d think he would say, “Oh hey, Tom, this Box Car Racer thing you have going.. pretty fucking jealous, dude.  It’s starting to be a problem.”  
           _Only he didn’t._  He never said a word.  He let it build up, let the resentment take over, let their relationship crumble around them.  Now Tom was alone, upset that he woke up every morning.

** We cared too late. We just followed along. **

          New liquor bottle.  Spiced rum this time.  This is how Tom coped with shit, this is what he started doing when things were getting tough with blink.  There at the end, he was never sober.  It started as a cry for help, something to get Mark’s attention and make him realize that things weren’t okay.  It backfired.

_Tom stumbled into Mark’s bus, tripping as he got through the door.  The cup he was holding fell with him, spilling his vodka and orange juice all over the floor.  
          ”Sorryyy!  I’m fucking sorry, dude, I just fell and spilled this shit, where the fuck did that step come from, um.. Mark!  I came to say hii!”  Tom tried to ignore the obvious distaste Mark had for him.  Pretend to be happy, Tom, just put that smile on and try to make him remember why he liked being around you.  
          A sigh came from the older boy’s lips.  “Hi. You’re drunk”  
          ”Yeah, uh.. sorry?  I mean, I don’t know..  About that..”  His words trailed off as he climbed up onto the couch, his hands nervously fidgeting with a piece of string.  Fuck, so much for the happy face. _  
_”You need to go to bed, Tom.”_  
 _”I know, I just..  I needed to see you, Mark.  We have to talk.”  Just like that, Tom could practically hear Mark’s stupid fucking defensive wall go up, of course he would fucking do that now._  
 _”It’s late, can’t we talk about whatever it is tomorrow?”  That was the routine lately.  Always tomorrow, always later.  Always some other time that never came.  Tom sighed, defeated, and left without another word._  
           Tomorrow came.  They never talked about it.

** If that field nearby was still there to be used, would you ever have known?  Those words were for you. **

          He rubbed his eyes with tired, calloused hands.  No amount of pills or alcohol was helping Tom hurt less.   _It was exhausting._  He was too exhausted to remain angry for more than a minute or two.  That wasn’t really why he couldn’t stay angry, but that’s what he would say.  It’s not like he needed to sound any more like a fucking sap.  
          He just couldn’t stay mad at Mark.  He couldn’t hate him, he couldn’t even resent him too much.  Maybe Mark felt that way, too. Maybe they could..

** I’ll be your distraction. **

          Tom sighed.   _No, they couldn’t._  He’d made sure of it by changing his number so he wouldn't cave the second he heard Mark's voice.   **Fuck.**  It wasn’t fucking fair.   _He was miserable._  All he wanted was for Mark to just show up and say, “You need a distraction, Tommy.”  
          But that wouldn’t happen.  It couldn’t happen, it was impossible.  Since Mark couldn’t offer that to him, maybe Tom could offer it to Mark instead.  Somehow.

** I’ll be, I’ll be yours. **

          With that thought, Tom decided this album wouldn’t just be a goodbye.   _It would be a distraction._  Something to distract Mark’s attention from his life and onto Tom’s life.  Something to remind Mark of their memories together, and remind him that Tom was still here, **still hurting** , still holding onto shit he should’ve let go.  It was going to hurt, yeah, but goddamn, Mark had to listen sometime.  
          Besides, who said distractions were always painless?


	3. Do It For Me Now

** I’m frightened at night, and the wind has a roar.  It seeps through the hall and from under the door. **

           _Nightmares._  They were so often these days, he had grown to accept them.  Acceptance didn’t make them any easier to get through, though, and it wasn’t uncommon for Tom to spend the night awake so he didn’t have to deal with them.  The ones lately were so real, so terrifying.  Most nights, he would wake up in a cold sweat, sheets tangled around him, his hands grasping for someone that wasn’t there anymore.  
          It was one of those nights again.  Tom woke up, a scream on the tip of his tongue, the sound of destruction still ringing in his ears.  His hair was wet, stuck to his forehead with sweat.  He sat up and pushed it away, still trying to get his breathing under control.  Jen was sleeping calmly beside him.  Jen…   _When had he made it to bed?_  Last he remembered, he was locked in his studio, sprawled out on that couch he’d come to be so familiar with.  Shrugging it off, he got up and wandered out of his bedroom, still shaken from his dream.  There was no comfort to be found there.  That room hadn’t been comforting to him in ages..  
          After throwing on a hoodie and a pair of pants, he found himself out the door.  His car was started, he was driving somewhere.  This was all done in a haze, a half-asleep haze, at that.  Tom had no idea where he was going, but he knew where he ended up.   Of all the fucking places...

** Like the shit that was said, I can’t take it that well. **

          It was starting to rain.  One of those hot, sticky rains that made you feel like the sky was pissing on your head or something equally as gross.  Shivers made their way down Tom’s spine as he stood outside his car, staring up at a house he used to know so well.  Eyes taking in how peaceful the place was, noting how there was only one light on in the whole place.  One light.   _Who was up?_  Better question, what fucking time was it?  He glanced down at his phone.  
          3:30am.   _Awesome._  Not like it’s creepy or anything, standing outside his ex-bestfriend’s house in the rain, alone, in the middle of the night..  Nope, not creepy at all.  What the fuck was he even doing here?  
          Tom punched the hood of his car out of frustration before getting back in the driver seat and starting the engine.  That little outburst of rage had made more noise than he was expecting, and he knew it was only a matter of time before someone came to the door to see what was going on.  He sped off.  He couldn’t handle anyone seeing him there.  What if Mark came out?  No, no fucking way was he going to let Mark see him like this.  Especially not after all the bullshit he’d said about how Tom needed to “man up” and whatever, what did he even know, fuck him.

** I give and I give and I give and I give and I’m still lost and hurt and bone thin from the love that’s been starved. **

          Driving probably wasn’t the best idea, given the state of things.  The rain went from zero to pouring in a matter of minutes.  The lack of quality sleep had Tom on the verge of hallucinating, and his eyes were fighting back the tears that were just waiting to spill out.   _So what_ , he thought.   _Maybe that would be a nice way to end things - a gruesome car crash, one where they wouldn’t even be able to recognize his body._   At least then he wouldn’t have to deal with this break up bullshit.  
          The beach had always been one of his favourite spots, one of the only places in the world he could go to get away from everything.  It offered him exactly what he needed - fresh air, the water, the familiar scent of saltwater in the air, a perfect view of the stars - without any questions.  It’s no surprise that he ended up there, alone, rain still falling all around him.  It was okay, because the rain mixed in with the tears that finally fought their way out of his eyes, and he didn’t have to admit to himself that he was crying.  God, getting manlier and manlier by the minute, aren’t you, Delonge?  
          He plopped down in the wet sand, pulled his hood up, slipped off his shoes, and laid back.  The sand was cold and rough against his bare feet, and he burrowed his fingers down into it.  His eyes closed, trying hard to focus only on the sensations, on anything other than the sadness that grew inside him.  Unable to focus for too long, his mind started to wander.  
          It helped a bit, the sand.  Every tiny little grain had a story, a life it lived out.  Some of them used to be part of something bigger, some of them used to be deep in that bottomless ocean.   _The ocean._  That ocean suffocated the shit out of him sometimes.  It was hard to come and spend any time looking at it during the day, and that was more depressing to Tom than it should’ve been.  How many times had he come out to the beach just to watch the water roll in, just to listen to the waves, just to think?  That used to be such a common occurance, until everything was different and he started noticing how blue it was.  
          Tom squeezed his eyes shut harder and gritted his teeth.   _That was a lie._  He’d always noticed how blue it was, he’d always noticed the fucking similarities between the ocean and his best friend’s eyes.  That’s why he used to come out to the beach so often, even if he never really realized that was why.  When things were getting bad between the two of them, he found himself at this exact beach more and more.  It wasn’t something he could explain then, it wasn’t something he even tried to explain, it was just something he took as fact.  The beach was comforting.  The ocean was comforting.   _The water reminded him of Mark’s eyes._

** The grave is set up, the hole that I dug.  I gave and I gave and I gave and I gave you my trust. **

          Before he realized his legs were even moving, Tom found himself back at his car.  Sand was caked to his back, wet and sticky and gross.  Fuck if he cared.  He stood with the driver door open, leaning in just enough to keep the raindrops from falling on his phone, and he stared at the screen.  The number he wanted was deleted from his phone months ago, in case this exact situation arose.  Not like that stopped him, it was a number he knew by heart.  His fingers flew over the buttons, the number entered, not dialed.  Something wasn’t letting him hit the send button.  
          ”So this is how you want Mark to see you,” a tiny voice said inside his head.  This voice, it was the sound of all of Tom’s insecurities.  All his fears, all his worries, everything he didn’t want to happen, every worst case scenario he could think of - it was all embodied in this voice.  
          ”He’s seen me worse.”  Talking to yourself is generally frowned upon in public, but it doesn’t matter so much when you’re alone.  A memory flickered in Tom’s mind, a brief glimpse of how miserable he was when he was dealing with his parents’ divorce.  Mark stayed by him through all of that.  
          ”You were a child then.  He was your bestfriend then.  What’s your excuse now?”  He winced.  It was the truth,  no denying it.  They were best friends.  Used to be.  In the past.  But now?  
          ”I just fucking need him!”  Tom was yelling now.  Alone.  In the middle of the night.  To a voice inside his head.  No time like the present to sink to a new low.   
          ”Just like he needs you?  That must be why he came after you when you left.  Must be why he tried to stop all this when it was so clearly happening.”  
          The phone bounced off the passenger seat and landed on the floor when Tom threw it.  He put is face down on the seat, still standing outside the car, too weak with the utter sadness taking over him to hold himself up on his own.  He was swearing, cursing the tears that were coming down his face, sobbing between his desperate gasps for breath.  Fuck arguing with himself, fuck doubting everything, he was going to sit his ass right back down on that sand and wait.  For what, he didn’t know.  All he knew was that was the only place where he could make the spinning in his head stop.

** Like that time that we kissed, and you gave me a lie.  To add to this scene, you pretended to cry. **

          The water came up around his feet where he finally decided to make himself comfortable in the sand.  Considering the rain had lightened up since earlier, it wasn’t too uncomfortable.  He stared at the sand, drawing small shapes and pictures and dicks.   _Ha, dicks._  They never ceased to be funny.  He missed having someone around to make dick jokes with all the time.  There were times when he would come out to the beach with Mark, and all they would end up doing was drawing dicks.  Giant ones, in epic scenes with dragons, unicorns, giant breasted women, and occasionally even more dicks.

_”Dude, lookit this one!  Look!  It’s a dickicorn!”  Tom couldn’t stop himself from laughing when he caught sight of the horrific thing Mark drew in the sand.  Yep, a unicorn with a dick on its head.  Should’ve known from the name.  
          ”Oh no, keep it away from the villagers!”  He drew a bunch of women with abnormally large breasts, and made them look like they were running away in terror.  Well, as close to running away in terror as you could get with stick figures.  
          ”Do not run in that direction, oh ye villagers!  More frightening sights await you on the hillside,” Mark exclaimed while running to the other side of Tom, hurrying to draw his next masterpiece.  Tom didn’t watch what his friend drew.  Instead, he got distracted drawing more stick people in compromising positions.  The particular scene he was working on was two people having sex on a cart, the man having larger balls than said cart.  Yes, the cart had balls.  Why the hell not?  When he finally looked over, his eyes were met by Mark putting the finishing touches on a dragon.  A flaming dragon.  With a dick sword.  
          ”..Okay, what the fuck is that?”  
          ”Uh, a dragon warrior of the sacred penis code?  Duh.”  
          ”The sacred penis code?”  
          ”Yeah, man.  The sacred penis code.  When in doubt, helicoptor!”  Mark swung his hips and Tom ended up on the ground, rolling with laughter.  The older boy was getting a kick out of making his best friend laugh so hard, until he noticed the other artwork in the sand.  
          ”Oh man, Tom.  Tom!  Tom, stop rolling around, this is a serious matter!”  He waited until Tom was composed enough to make eye contact, then Mark pointed to the ground.  “Is that a fucking donkey carriage with balls?”  
          ”Oh, yeah, I mean..  I figured maybe the cart needed some action, too.”  Laughter ensued again, this time from both parties.  Their cheeks hurt, their ribs hurt, they were both practically on the ground..  If a stranger had walked by and saw them at that point, they would swear something was wrong with those boys.  They were both pointing to the ground and laughing hysterically.  Tom calmed down before Mark did, and took that opportunity to push him down on the sand, right between the dick dragon and the dickicorn.  
          ”Look, Mark, you’re surrounded by dicks, just like you were last night.”  The younger boy smiled, his eyes showing that he was rather proud of his joke.  Before he knew it, Mark had pulled him to the ground as well, rolling over on top of him and pinning him down.  
          ”What was that, Delonge?  What?  I can’t hear you over your mom’s moans!”  Tom’s shirt rode up in all the commotion, and Mark took advantage of this by tickling him right above his belly button and grinning.  
          ”No!  Fuck you fuck you fuckyoufuckyoufuckyou STOOOOPPP, dammit!”  He whined and wiggled underneath Mark, he fucking hated being tickled.  That evil bastard, always going for the fucking weak spots!  
          Mark finally stopped and sat back on his heels, still straddling Tom’s hips.  This wasn’t an awkward position for either of them, though some might typically consider it odd.  Truth be told, both of them enjoyed those moments a little more than they should, without the other knowing.  Mark grabbed Tom’s hand and pulled him up into the sitting position, still straddling his hips, and pointed out to the ocean.  
          ”The sun’s setting.”  
          Tom didn’t even bother to look at it.  He mumbled some sort of acknowledgement, but never took his eyes off Mark.  Those blue fucking eyes, how could the ocean, the sunset, how could either of those compare?  How could _ anything _compare?  
          So many questions came to Tom's mind.  He wanted to Ask Mark about Skye, ask if they were serious, ask if he still loved him, ask...  Well, fucking _ anything. _Now was his chance.  
          Then Mark looked over, his eyes meeting Tom’s.  Every ounce of courage he thought he had half a second ago was gone, and he could feel himself drowning in blue eyes.  Drowning, suffocating, being totally consumed and devoured and engulfed.  Fuck the sunset, there was nothing else he’d rather look at.  
          Before he could stop himself, Tom felt his lips on Mark’s, crashing against him with all the feelings he’d been trying so hard to suppress.  Mark’s hands were suddenly in Tom’s hair, pulling him closer, twisting and tangling in his hair gently as their lips were matching each other’s movements.  His mind shut off, he was unable to form any sort of coherent thought.  All he could hear was his heartbeat, loud in his ears, and the soft sounds of their breathing and gasping together.  He let his feelings take over and wrapped his arms around the older boy’s waist, trying to somehow pull him even closer.  This was all he’d wanted, all he’d thought about for entirely too long.  There was no way he was going to let this moment get away from him.  
          Mark pulled away slowly and put his forehead against Tom’s, both of them still trying to calm their breathing.  Tom was still too caught up in the moment, his mind hadn’t even had a chance to start racing, yet.  That is, until he noticed the tears forming in Mark’s eyes.  
          Fuck. _  
_”You have no idea how much I've missed you.  I know we were going to try to stop this after the marriages, but you don't understand how hard this is for me.  I see you everyday, and all I can think about is touching you, being close to you, being what we used to be.  I'm sorry, just...  It won't happen again, if you don't want it to.” Mark was babbling.  He was fucking babbling.  Just spit it out already, what?_  
 _”Um..”  Oh, nice one, Tom, that’s all you can say?  That’ll win him over, for sure._  
 _”Seriously, you have to see how hard you make this for me.  You're the one I want, and the one I can't have.  I'm miserable.” Tom shut him up with another kiss.  Fuck yeah, Delonge, that’s how you get ‘em!_  
 _”Don’t know if you caught that, dickweed, but I know.  I love you too,” he said, finally pulling away.  Mark flashed one of the brightest smiles he’d seen in a while, and he couldn’t help smiling in return._  
 _”Could’ve said something earlier, fuckface.”_  
 _”Maybe I like to keep you guessing.  You’re cute when you squirm.”_

** Just give me a chance, and I’ll try to forgive. **

          Tom smiled.  He was right on the same beach that happened.  It wasn't their first kiss, by any means, but it was the first one they'd had in a while.  He would give anything in the fucking world to go back to that moment.  
          ”You’re really still clinging to that like a sap?  Give it up, Delonge.”  That voice again.  It was easier to distinguish than normal.  It’d been quite a while since he’d taken any painkillers, he realized.  That was why.  That voice took over when he had a couple pills in his system, no wonder he was such a different person.   _No wonder he was such an asshole._  
          ”He didn’t mean any of it.  If he meant it, where is he now?”  
          ”He’s where I fucking left him.  Where I left him - where you left him!”  You fucking tell that voice in your head, Tom.  Tell ‘em!  
          ”He didn’t even try.”  
          ”Well shit, did you give him a chance to try?  No, you fucking left, you ran like a goddamn coward when things got tough.”  It was getting scary, the way he was arguing with himself.  He felt like he had two personalities.  
          ”You tried.”  
          ”Maybe I didn’t try hard enough.  Maybe I gave up too soon.”  Tom clenched his fists around the sand.  “It doesn’t even matter, because I can’t do this.  I need him.  He’s my best friend.”  
          “ _Was._ ”  
          Tears were streaming down Tom’s face.  There was no rain to hide them in.  He tried to find a clean spot on his hoodie to wipe his face, but it was pointless.  Sand was everywhere.  He got up and began walking to the car, taking his hoodie off in the process and wiping his face on his arm.  Fuck, he was disgusting.

** I’ve really had it with the rain of the tears. **

          Once he made it inside the car, he let it all go.  He couldn’t explain why he felt the need to hold back his crying until he got to the car, it just made him feel safer.  Less exposed.  Less vulnerable to the world.  But god, did he let it out when he finally got the door closed.  His fists pounded the steering wheel, taking all the energy he had left.  He slumped down in his seat, hands falling to his sides, and let his body shake with the sobs that were coming.  It was no use trying to wipe the tears away, they just kept coming and coming.   _It was the first time he really started to feel the realization that this was his fault._  It was his fault he didn’t have Mark anymore.  It was his fault he was so miserable.  All his fucking fault.  No wonder he stayed high all the time, this shit was too much to deal with.  Something got his attention, finally.  A noise.  The fuck noise was that?  Tom looked around.  He could’ve sworn it was his phone.  Where did that thing end up?  Then he heard it again - the missed call notification.

** You’re a thief and a witch, but I love you to death.  You steal my heart and curse under your breath. **

          Phone in hand, Tom squinted at the number that came up on the screen.  There was no fucking way that number had called.  No way.  He knew for sure he was losing it.  How did..?  What..?  He dropped the phone on his lap and rubbed his temples.  Why was his phone telling him that Mark called?  Was this some sort of joke?  Was he crazy?  How did Mark even have his number, he’d changed it when he left.  Unless..  
          He was frantic, trying to get back to his dialed calls screen.  The proof was there.  The number was dialed, called, and answered.  Mark’s number.  Tom tried to stop shaking long enough to see how long the call had lasted.  Ten minutes, there was no way that call had gone to voicemail.  Fuck.  He made it back to the missed call screen, holding his breath the whole time.  Three missed calls?  Three?!  
          The phone ended up back on the floor, Tom couldn’t be bothered to hold on to it anymore.  He sat there, his body shaking, his breath irregular.  Nothing was making sense in his mind, thoughts weren’t able to complete themselves before another thought took over.  There was no way he’d hit the call button, he remembered.  That fucking voice, the stupid little shit inside his head, there was just no way he’d made the call.  What if his phone did it by itself?  Right, because phones are capable of that.  Maybe the government.. or aliens..?  
          Tom laughed at himself.  Why did he insist on making excuses?  He knew full well what had happened.  He also knew full well what it meant.  
          Mark had answered when his phone dialed the number left on the screen before it was thrown.  He’d answered.  That could only mean he heard Tom blubbering like the fucking man he is, what an idiot.  Why couldn’t he control himself a little better than this?  >em>Hey, we haven’t spoken in months, but let me call you in the middle of the night and cry hysterically without saying a word to you, or even realize you’re there. He sighed.  Wait, though,  Mark had called back.  Three fucking times that man had called back.  Did that mean he was worried?

** “The one thing that I can most willingly prove, that when you are gone, I’ll be fine without you.” **

          Tom smiled and set his phone on the dash.  This feeling was building up inside him, and he found himself wanting to cry again.  It wasn’t as sad this time.  It was strange.  What feeling was this?  He leaned forward, head resting on the steering wheel, and it hit him.   **Hope.**  For the first time in too long, he felt hope.  God, the last time he’d felt this was..  
          He chuckled to himself.  The last time he felt this was because of Mark, too.  It was always because of him.  Even now, that motherfucker, he was the only reason Tom could feel any sort of happiness.  
          The seat reclined a bit as Tom leaned back, content to lose himself in this feeling for just a bit longer.  It was so nice, knowing that Mark still cared.  It didn’t matter how much, just a little bit was fine.  Tom was content knowing he cared enough to answer the phone in the middle of the night, he cared enough to listen to Tom cry without saying a word to him for ten minutes, he cared enough to call back.  That thought stuck with him for a minute.  Mark was obviously worried, if he called back three times.  The calls were rather spaced out, too, about half an hour between each call.  What if he was still worried?  
          Tom reached for his phone and stared at the screen again.  Maybe he would give Mark a call back, just to let him know he was okay.  Was he even ready to talk?  Did he have to talk?  What if Mark really didn’t care?  He shook his head.  No, he couldn’t let those thoughts come back right now.  Not now.  His finger pressed the call back button lightly, and he waited.  One ring.  One ring was enough, right?  Would it show he’d called after one ring?  What if it didn’t?  Two rings.  Yeah, that’s definitely enough.  Tom hung up the phone, sure that Mark would know what his number showing up on his ID meant.

** But now, my last wish is that you do this with me.  Kiss me here, and hold my hand.  Let me feel like I’m the only one.  I know you can.  Won’t you do it for me now? **

          ”You’re such a girl, Delonge,” he said to himself, looking around his car to make sure he’d grabbed everything. Hoodie - check.  Shoes - check.  Did he have anything else?  He decided whatever else he had, if anything, must not be too important, since he couldn’t remember it.  The key turned in the ignition, the car started, and Tom began driving in the direction of his studio.  The sun was up by this point, so the windows of his car were down.  The wind felt awesome against Tom’s face, and he made a mental note to remember how much he enjoyed this moment.  
          The studio came before he knew it.  Tom drove right past it, deciding at the last minute that there was somewhere else he needed to be first.  His stomach was tying itself into knots, and his hands gripped the steering wheel harder than before.  Anxiety was taking over his thoughts, trying to remind him of every reason why he shouldn’t do this.  He fought it the whole way.  It didn’t matter, this was something he had to do.  He had to.  
          He parked across the street from his destination.  It felt like he got here way too fast, but at the same time, it felt like it took forever.  Weird how time works like that.  He shook his head and looked up at the house he stopped at.  Mark’s house.  Sure enough, that one light was still on. It was the light in the music room.  He stared at it for a minute, and a smile played across his lips.  The music he could hear coming from the house was something he knew all too well.  “Boys Don’t Cry” by The Cure.  His smile grew bigger, until he could feel his cheeks hurting.  
          ”You’re still a sap, Hoppus.”  And with that, Tom started his car again and drove towards the studio.

** Hold on, hold on to me. **

          The studio door flew open.  Tom caught it with his leg to hold it still while he pulled his key out.  That hopeful feeling was still making its home in his chest, getting lighter and lighter by the minute.  He was going to use that feeling, put it all down into words for the next song he was writing.  Maybe, possibly, he could convey that feeling to Mark, and he would feel a bit of it, too.  He flipped the switch to turn the lights on and made his way over to his usual spot on the couch.  The paper he was using last time he was here was still sitting on the table, waiting to hold all his thoughts.  With a bottle of water beside him, he put his pen to the paper and began writing.  
          The smile was still on his face.


	4. The Adventure

** I wanna have the same last dream again, the one where I wake up and I’m alive. **

_The smell of old fast food, sweat, dirty clothes, and three boys that hadn’t showered in a week was not the best smell to wake up to in the morning. It was a familiar smell to Tom at this point - the smell of living his dream on the road. Too bad no one ever thought to invest in air fresheners for it.  
          He yawned, attempting to stretch as much as possible in the back of the cramped little van. They weren’t moving, he noticed. He assumed Scott stopped at a gas station for beer or munchy food. Probably beer. Leave it to Scott to always plan ahead with alcohol.   
          He manuevered carefully around a sleeping Mark Hoppus so he didn’t wake him. Mark never had much luck with sleep, so it was almost a sin to disturb him when he finally got some. The younger boy stopped for a brief moment to admire his bestfriend’s peaceful face and smiled to himself, then he pushed the passenger door open with one swift movement. The sun beat down on Tom’s skin as he hopped out onto the pavement, and his lungs welcomed the huge breath of fresh air.   
          “Sup, Sleeping Beauty? Glad to see you’re done sawing logs,” Scott said as he walked back to the van with an armful of shitty convenient store snacks.   
          “Fuck off, shitcake. Where are we?”   
          “I think about three hours outside Reno. Your turn to drive, bitch, I need a nap.” Scott crawled into the back of the van, so Tom took another minute to stretch his arms and legs while he could.   
          Everything was falling into place for him. he was making music with his two best friends, their band had shows out of state, people knew them.. They were _free. _Tom was free. He smiled up at the sky and knew what it was to feel alive._

** Just as the four walls close me within, my eyes are opened up with pure sunlight. **

  
          Sometimes reality just isn’t easy to face. It’s easier to live in denial of it, running from it, masking it. You get into a habit of it, and eventually you lose sight of what reality truly is anymore. Until it shows up and punches you in the face one day, that is.   
          Tom found himself staring blankly at old blink photos when our new friend Reality paid him a visit. With it came the harsh truth that he hadn’t felt alive in ages, and that yearning he felt inside of him for the old days would always be just that - a hopeless longing. That wasn’t speculation anymore; it was fact, as real as the room around him. Mark was gone, blink was gone, and this was his life now. _This was reality now._ The old days and their comforts were long gone.

** I’m the first to know, my dearest friends, even if your hope has burned with time, anything that’s dead shall be regrown. **

          Yet somehow, this wasn’t as soul-crushing for Tom as one might think. Sure, the days he used to live for were gone. He couldn’t go back in time, there was no way to get those moments back. There was something bittersweet about this whole revelation to him, because something inside him still knew he would have to patch things up with Mark eventually. Maybe things wouldn’t go back to the way they were, maybe they couldn’t snap their fingers and have everything perfect again, maybe they would have to work their asses off to rebuild their friendship to even a fraction of what it was - but it had to be done. After all, they owned two clothing companies together. Atticus, Macbeth, that was Tom’s saving grace now. That was where he put his hope, because surely Mark wouldn’t just leave behind two things he loved to get away from Tom.. right?   
          A scoff came from his throat. His hope was placed in something more than that, because there was always something _more_ with Mark and him. Something they could never voice, something words didn’t exist for. It was there, and they couldn’t run from it forever.

** And your vicious pain, your warning sign, you will be fine. **

          That’s what made Tom feel okay when reality sank in around him. When he opened his eyes and saw all the leftovers and fragmented pieces of blink-182 scattered around him, when he looked around and saw he was actually alone, his little bit of hope was safely placed in the fact that what they had wasn’t something that could just disappear. Maybe it would be a distant thing, but at least it would be something, yeah?   
          Mark knew that, too. He always knew that.

** Any type of love, it will be shown. **

          Mark also knew that Tom could find love in _anything._ Even the most hateful gesture, he would see some way to turn it into one of love. It was a trait he learned as a teenager, when his parents would fight. All the yelling, the arguing, the screaming at Tom at all hours of the night - he began to take it as love. It was all he could get then. They were giving him attention, and the fact that they were doing that meant they cared. When his dad would make snide comments about how he didn’t play sports and would call him a pansy, he saw it as his dad still caring enough about him to make a comment, so it was love.   
          Mark knew Tom well enough to know that the only way to show Tom that he didn’t love him anymore was to completely ignore his existence. Tom lived for attention. So, even though Mark said some hurtful things in interviews, Tom could only see that he obviously still thought about him, and that, in itself, was love.

** If you’re gonna fall, I’ll let you know that I will pick you up like you for I. **

_It was raining out. Pouring, actually. An intoxicated teenager stumbled down the sidewalk with a skateboard under one arm and a nearly empty fifth of rum in the other. Cops weren’t something the boy was worried about at this point because, let’s face it, he was just too drunk to care. He’d concluded that a night in jail would be much better than a night of what he was running away from, anyway.  
          Knuckles pounding on wood, he found himself knocking on someone’s door. It was nice being under the overhang of the porch here, it kept the cold rain from soaking him even more. Not like it made too much difference, his clothes were already soaked through and his body racked with shivers. He knocked again before realizing he couldn’t keep his balance anymore and ended up sitting on the ground with his back to the door. Fuck, it was freezing. He took another swig of rum and pulled his knees to his chest, content to curl into a ball and wait there until the rain stopped or he died. Whichever happened first.   
          “Tom, what the fuck are you doing out here?” Someone was standing over him, he knew who it was from the feeling of relief that washed over him when he heard his voice. The door was open. When did that happen? And when did he end up falling backwards?   
          “F-f-fucking.. c-cold..” Tom didn’t want to open his eyes and see the disappointment he knew was painted all over Mark’s face. One more of those disappointed looks from someone and he was going to find himself at the bottom of a bottle of sleeping pills.   
          Mark picked Tom up off the ground and awkwardly carried him into his bedroom. After finding some dry clothes and promising to be right back with hot chocolate, he left Tom to get changed clumsily. It felt awesome to be in dry clothes. Fuck the rain and all its stupid wet bullshit. He stumbled out into the living room to see his skateboard propped up by the door and Mark putting what was left of his rum into the freezer. The blanket on the couch caught his eye next, so he wrapped it around himself while his bestfriend took a seat beside him.   
          “Alright, drunky, drink this,” Mark said, holding a cup of hot chocolate over to his still shivering best friend. ”Now what’s wrong, man?”   
          Tom sighed. It was all bullshit, really. His parents were constantly fighting, his dad made him feel like it was his fault, he couldn’t look his mom in the eye anymore, everything in his life was fucked because he was a complete fuck up. His jaw clenched, and tears began forming in his eyes.   
          “I’m a fuck up, dude. I’m ruining everyone’s lives because I can’t do a goddamn thing right.”   
          “Since when does The Great Thomas Delonge think he’s anything less than the best damn thing that’s ever happened to this world?”   
          “Fuck off, I’m serious.”   
          It was strange to see Tom like this. Mark enjoyed the fact that he was one of the few people, perhaps even the only person, that ever got to see him like he was. This was Tom’s most vulnerable state, raw and pure and honest. Their eyes locked, and Tom finally let himself go. Tears ran down his cheeks while his body shook with sobs. All Mark could do was wrap his arms around the younger boy’s shoulders and hold him close, running his fingers through his hair and shushing him softly.   
          “I’m fucking losing everyone, Mark. It’s all my fault,” he choked out against his best friend’s shoulder.   
          “No, Tommy, shh, you know that’s not the case.” Mark pulled back and lifted Tom’s face to look into his eyes. ”Look at me, look, stop thinking that way. What’s going on with your parents is between them, nothing there is your fault.”   
          Tom sniffled and nodded slowly, taking in everything that was being said.   
          “And you know you still have me, fuckstick. I’m not going anywhere, no matter what happens.”   
          All best friends have their own weird little habits and inside things that only mean something to each other. Mark and Tom were no exception. Tom held up his pinky and stared up at Mark through still glossy hazel eyes.   
          “You promise?”   
          Mark smiled and let out a small sigh, locking his pinky with Tom’s. ”Promise. You’ll always have me.”   
          A tiny smile made its way across Tom’s face. Everything finally felt _okay _again._  
          “And that rash on your dick.”   
          ..Fuck you, Mark Hoppus.

** I felt this thing I can’t replace where everyone was working for this goal, where all the children left without a trace, only to come back as pure as gold to recite this all. **

          Tom smiled to himself at the memory. That was the night his parents told him they were getting a divorce. There was no way he could’ve gotten through that without Mark, without blink. **blink-182 literally saved his life.** It was such an awesome thing to experience - working with people that had the same dreams, the same goals. Three best friends, just doing what they loved, being the people they were, working together to make music that millions of people loved. Their friendship is what really gave blink-182 the magic, that’s what people responded to. Tom knew he would never feel anything like that again. Sure, some of the fans would follow them on and love whatever they did, but blink-182 was this amazing merge of minds, creativity, and love.   
          Don’t be mistaken, Tom loved the fans. He lived for them. The ones dedicated enough to love him no matter what he did, those were the ones that really blew his mind. He ruined so many people’s lives, and yet somehow, people still forgave him, still got excited over what he would do after the break up. All he could do was hope that he didn’t let them down again like he did by leaving.

** Here I am. Here we go, life’s waiting to begin. **

          Tom took another look around, letting his eyes linger on a couple random photos of him with Mark, with blink, with fans. His past surrounded him, memories captured and placed behind glass. He smiled to himself and walked over to the window. The sun was shining outside. How long had it been since he’d let the sunlight into this room? Into his life?   
          It was time to go on. Time to move forward. Time to stop grasping and reaching for the past, and time to accept life as it is now.   
          With a swift motion, Tom moved the curtains and let the sun soak the room. His eyes made their journey back to all the pictures, taking in how the sun changed their dynamic. A particular picture caught his eye, and he made his way over to admire it closer.

** I cannot live, I can’t breathe unless you do this with me. **

          It was a picture of him with Mark, cheesy grin plastered to his face as Mark held up a hockey jersey beside him. He felt that same smile creep back to his face. Oh, Mark. With the thought of the future came the thought of Mark’s future, and Tom suddenly realized how excited he was to see what Mark did with his. What path would he take, what would he do now, what would his music be like? It still hurt to think of his other half living a perfect, happy life without him, but he needed to know that Mark could go on, that Mark would be happy, because maybe that meant he could, too.   
          Tom swore to himself in that moment, as long as Mark made music, as long as he was out there trying.. Tom would be out there trying, too.


	5. A Little's Enough

** When all is said and done, will we still feel pain inside? **

_Thump thump. Lights flashed from all directions. Thumpthumpthump. More flashes. Swallowing hard, Tom wasn’t sure if anyone else could hear how much his heart was racing. The sound filled his ears, drowned out all his thoughts, and his eyes tried to adjust to all the sudden light changes with every picture that was snapped around him._  
        _He looked over at Mark and Travis hoping to find some sense of relief, some signal that they were done with this publicity shoot, too. Travis stood there, mohawk done up perfectly, hands clasped behind his back. It’s like none of this phased him. Tom envied Travis sometimes. He could stay cool in any situation, never showing an ounce of weakness. Himself, on the other hand, he radiated weakness. Fidgets, jumps, eyes darting everywhere in an attempt to take in all his surroundings - it was easy to tell when Tom was nervous._  
 _Mark stood on the other side of Travis, eyes fixated somewhere far away. Tom tried to follow his gaze, but he concluded that Mark was a million miles outside of their current situation. His hands rested in the pockets of his baggy jeans, jacket hanging loosely over his shoulders. His hair stuck up in all directions, a look only Mark could pull off. Tom found himself resisting the urge to reach over and flatten it, just to piss him off. Things like that didn’t go over well these days. Mark wasn’t even smiling._  
 _Tom sighed, his eyes falling to the ground. Heartbeat still loud in his ears, cameras still going off all around him. He bit his lip and began fidgeting with his lip ring. He felt so out of place. Nothing made him uncomfortable like this publicity bullshit. When would it finally be over?_

** Will the scars go away with night? Try to smile for the morning light. **

          His eyes snapped open, tired and confused. He looked around, trying to become familiar with where he was. Fuck that dream. Why didn’t they get the memo, yet? You’re not supposed to dream of memories, you’re supposed to dream of off the wall shit, like aliens and driving over water and trees that could talk. Any of those things would make dreaming way more exciting than reliving moments he already squirmed his way out of.  
          He pulled himself off the couch and stretched. Ugh, falling asleep on that tiny couch was stupid. The clock read 9:13am, time for breakfast. As Tom was walking to the bathroom to grab a couple painkillers out of the medicine cabinet, the smell of coffee made its way through the house. Jen must already be up.  
          ”You better bring your butt over here, little girl,” Jen said when she heard someone come in the kitchen. She muted the TV and waited for her smiling daughter to come running at her, sleepy-eyed and hair still a mess.  
          ”My butt goes where it wants to, mister,” Tom replied in his girliest voice while pouring himself a cup of coffee. Jen turned around with a look of surprise, only to find Tom still chuckling at himself.  
          ”Oh you asshole, make some noise when you come in so I know it’s you.” She got up and met her husband in the kitchen. Her arms wrapped around his stomach as she gave him a quick peck on the lips. ”What are you doing up so early?”  
          ”Living the dream,” Tom smiled as he sipped his coffee.  
          Jen let out a small laugh and slapped him lightly on the stomach. “Mail’s on the counter, butthead. Ava should be down soon, she has a birthday party to go to today.” She made her way back over to the couch, unmuted the TV, lowered the volume, and picked up a magazine.  
          Tom went through the mail with no interest, still sipping his coffee, when he saw something out of the corner of his eye that made his heart jump. His eyes shot up only to be met with none other than _Mark Hoppus_ on the screen.

** It’s like the best dream to have, where everything is not so bad. **

          He set his coffee down just as the channel changed - Jen must’ve noticed the TV, as well.  
          ”No, it’s fine, change it back.”  
          ”What, are you sure?”  
          ”Yeah, just do it.”  
          She changed the channel back and positioned herself on the couch so she could glance back at Tom every few seconds. Tom didn’t even notice. His mind was flooded with images and videos of Mark and himself years ago, videos of blink in their prime - laughing, smiling, being fucktards. Memories hit him like tidal waves with every video played.

_“Dude, you gotta stop pulling my boxers down,” Tom said between laughs. Mark was rolling on the floor, gasping for breath for the hundredth time that day. This scene had been going on for too long._  
          _”I told you to leave your pants unbuttoned!”_  
 _”You tell every guy you meet that, homo!”_  
 _They were shooting the video for Dammit. This was the scene where Mark gets dragged away and reaches for Tom, pulling his pants down in the process. Needless to say, it was the most difficult scene so far. Somehow, Mark managed to pull Tom’s boxers down every single time they shot it, leaving Tom butt ass naked on camera. Not a good music video._  
 _Then again, Tom thought, maybe nothing about this video was “good.” Hell, they’d already caught him mouthing “I love you” to Mark during part of it. Why not gay it up a little more?_  
 _Next time they shot the scene of Mark pulling Tom’s pants down, Tom pulled them up and did his best smile and wink at Scott._

** The deepest blue, the clearest sky. The silence came with the brightest eyes. **

          Suddenly, Tom saw something that ripped him from his memories and slammed him back into reality. His heart raced, the sound filling his ears. Fuck, even air was hard for him to grasp at this point. His hands grabbed onto the kitchen counter in an attempt to keep himself on the ground, because his whole world was spinning.  
          There sat Mark, right before his eyes. Tom took in everything about him. His hair was sticking up in all directions, just like normal, only it had gotten a bit longer. A long sleeved shirt hung off his frame loosely, which brought Tom to notice how much weight he’d lost. _Wow._ He had bags under his eyes, which they’d attempted to hide in makeup. Maybe most people didn’t notice, but Tom would always notice when something wasn’t right with Mark. The camera panned out a bit, letting him really see how much weight he’d lost. He gasped, and Jen made her way over to his side.  
          ”Babe, I’ll turn it off..” she offered as she put her hand on his arm.  
          ”No, just.. no.” Tom shrugged her hand off and kept his eyes glued to the screen.  
          Mark’s eyes seemed so different to him. He couldn’t put his finger on what it was, but something wasn’t there anymore. Maybe it was just bad lighting. Maybe he had contacts in or something. Regardless, it was nice to finally see those eyes again. Tom found himself longing to get lost in them like he used to, aching to put that spark that was missing back into them. Mark’s eyes didn’t smile anymore. _Mark didn’t smile._  
          Tom kept watching, mesmerized by his ex-best friend on the screen. Not once had Mark cracked a smile. He moved over to the couch and turned the volume up.

** The children ran to see. The parents stood in disbelief, and those who knew braced for the ride. **

          “So what happened, why did blink-182 go on this hiatus,” the interviewer asked.  
          Mark looked down quickly, his hand shot up to rub the side of his face. ”Not really ready to talk about that, yet.”  
          ”But this isn’t the end for blink, right? You guys will get back together?”  
          ”Nah, I don’t think so, man.” Mark’s eyes darted from the floor to the interviewer, back to the floor, down to his hands - he was trying to avoid this conversation.  
          Tom sighed. He really said that. _He really said that blink was over._ Fuck, what was Tom doing anyway? Standing here watching this stupid interview like an idiot. He could feel his jaw clenching, he kept his eyes glued to the television.  
          ”Have you talked to any of your old bandmates?”  
          ”Well, Travis and I have a new band, +44. And Tom.. I haven’t heard from him since the split.” Mark was biting the sides of his fingers. That’s something he didn’t do often. Tom took note of how his body sat rigidly, untrusting of the interviewer. He looked ready to jump out of his skin.  
          The interview went off, and Tom was left standing there, dumbfounded. Jen searched his face, worried look playing all over her features.  
          ”Babe..” she trailed off.  
          Tom didn’t respond. He left his coffee on the counter and walked away in the direction of the bathroom again.  
          Bottle of pills in his hand, he sat on the edge of the bathtub. How could Mark say that? Did he really think blink was over for good? _Two pills down his throat._ He sighed. Not like he left Mark much choice, did he? After all the fights, Tom just left. Ran away, changed his phone number, distanced himself completely. _Another pill down._ How uncomfortable did Mark look? He looked so out of place, like.. Tom couldn’t place it. Something wasn’t okay with Mark.  
          After swallowing _one more pill_ , Tom shoved the bottle into his pocket and left the bathroom. The studio, that’s where he needed to be right now. He needed to offer Mark some sort of comfort. Some sort of.. anything. Anything to put a smile back on his face, even for a second.

** I can do anything if you want me here, and I can fix anything if you let me near. **

          Pen to the paper, Tom began scribbling out words, lines wrote down with haste. Anything that came to mind, any tiny comfort he could maybe offer Mark. Tom didn’t consider blink to be over. What if Mark only said that because he thought that’s what Tom thought? A new line scrawled onto the paper. Reassurance, that’s what Mark needed. Just some sort of acknowledgement that Tom was still willing to fix anything if given the chance.. if Mark wanted.  
          He sat back with a groan. The painkillers were hitting him, it was making the room spin a little bit. He closed his eyes and let himself fall into the rush for a moment. His mind wandered, imagining what it would’ve been like to show up at that interview.  
          First things first, he would’ve definitely flattened Mark’s hair. He missed playing with someone like that. Jen played back sometimes, sure, but if he ever fucked her hair up, it would be like unleashing the anger of the beast. That woman was not above throwing heavy objects when he pissed her off just right.  
          Of course, after flattening Mark’s prized gravity defying hair, Tom would sprint away to avoid the man chasing after him. This scene had played out several times before - Tom would fuck up Mark’s hair, Mark would chase after Tom screaming obsceneties and a string of swears. Tom would inevitably fall like the graceful fuck he is, succumbing to Anti-Gravity Hair Man’s wrath. The wrath never got too far, because Mark would always end up tripping over Tom, presenting him with another chance to flatten his best friend’s hair. Then Mark would get up, huff and puff and prance his ass right back to the mirror to fix what Tom had destroyed, all while cursing Tom under his breath.  
          Tom found himself laughing at the scene he’d recreated in his head. _Fuck, he missed Mark._

** What are those secrets now that you’re too scared to tell? I’ll whisper them all aloud so you can hear yourself. **

          It’s not that he missed being _intimate_ with him. He did miss that, more than words could express, but at this moment, he just missed his best friend. He missed having someone to play with, someone to fuck around with, someone to make dick jokes with. He missed losing himself in those blue eyes, he missed bugging Mark until that stupid smile crept across his face, he missed.. Mark. Everything about him. His smell, his laugh, his presence. How long had it been since he’d heard that man laugh?  
          Eyes still closed, the image of Mark in that interview came back to the forefront of his mind. Mark was hiding something. Tom could tell, he could _always_ tell. It was the way he bit the sides of his fingers, the way his eyes didn’t want to leave the floor.. like he was afraid making eye contact with someone would allow them to read all his feelings.  
          Tom thought about this for a second. He wrote something else down on the piece of paper on his lap, something he probably wouldn’t be able to read once he opened his eyes. Whatever, he knew what he was trying to say. He was trying to let Mark know that he could read him, that he could still pick up on his deflective behaviour. After all, he’d seen it enough times to know exactly what he was doing.

** I’m sorry, I have to say it, but you look like you’re sad. Your smile is gone; I’ve noticed it bad. **

          His heart ached at the image of Mark his mind was recreating for him. It was weird seeing him without a smile. Hell, there wasn’t a smile within ten feet of that man. His eyes were bright blue, like they’d always been, but something was dull about them. That spark they used to have was long gone. It reminded him of his own eyes, and why he hated looking in the mirror anymore.  
          God, what he would give to make him smile again. What could he possibly write that would bring any sense of joy to Mark? Not even joy, just any sense of.. anything. Comfort, reassurance, love - anything. Maybe simply stating that he noticed, that he could still tell when something wasn’t right.

** The cure is if you let in just a little more love, I promise you this, a little’s enough. **

          Another line made its home on the paper in front of him. Tom’s eyes remained closed, mind wandering around from situation to situation. What if this were the old days? Mark just sitting there on the floor, back leaned against the couch Tom was sitting on. They would be bouncing song ideas off each other, Tom with an acoustic guitar in his lap, Mark with his acoustic bass. When it came to song writing, they complimented each other perfectly. They could have an entire album written in no time flat, and it would probably be one of their best. That’s just how they were.  
          Tom imagined what he would say if Mark was in front of him right now, in their current situation. He imagined how he would spill his guts, probably hug Mark and never let go. All that aside, he wondered what he would say to those dull eyes, the face with no smile across it. Would he tell him he loved him? Would that be enough to make it okay for a moment? That word was always held in high regards to Tom, it wasn’t something he just threw around. Mark _knew_ that. Even with all the shit going on around them, if Tom said to Mark right now that he loved him, Mark wouldn’t be able to doubt it. He knew that’s just not the person Tom was.

** Just a little.. **

          The painkillers kicked in full force, and Tom found himself unable to sit still. He stood up and stretched, content with everything he’d written down for now. He felt he’d said enough to get his message across. Maybe even enough to make Mark feel better for a little while. Hopefully enough to make him smile for a minute. Tom sighed, letting himself be hopeful for a moment.  
          ”Honey, I’m about to take Ava to the birthday party,” Jen said as she opened the door and peeked in.  
          ”Wait up, I’ll come with.” Tom grabbed his jacket off the back of the couch and put it on as he walked to the door to meet his wife.  
          ”You sure? Everything okay?” He gave her a small kiss.  
          ”Yeah, of course!” She eyed him for a minute before coming to the conclusion that she believed him enough for now. Her little girl was only a few feet away and running at them with full force when she turned around.  
          ”Avaaa, hi baby girl!” Tom picked her up and swung her around when she finally reached him.  
          ”Hi Daddy, are you going to the party with us?”  
          ”I am, sweetheart, if your mama doesn’t mind.” He scrunched his face up at Jen and made a kissy motion.  
          Laughing, she took his hand and they all walked out of the house together. Ava kissed her daddy’s cheek as he carried her outside in his arms. He looked up at the bright blue sky and smiled.  
          Yeah, even a little bit of love could work wonders.


	6. The War

** The ocean is on fire. The sky turned dark again as the boats came in. **

_Mark’s eyes were so red. On a different day, a better state of mind, maybe Tom would’ve noticed that more. Maybe that would’ve stopped the stupid shit that came out of his mouth.  
          “Fuck you, dude, this band is all work now! Work, work, work. I loved this because it was fun! What the fuck happened?”  
          “_ You _happened! You and your fucking_ pills _!”_  
           _“That has nothing to even do with it!”_  
_“Bullshit! You’re not the same person anymore, Tom.”_  
_“I don’t have to fucking take this shit.” Tom stormed out of the studio, the door slamming behind him as he searched his pocket for his keys. Who the fuck did Mark think he was, anyway? Fuck him. He had the balls to shut Tom out and then blame him for it? What the fucking fuck?_  
_About five minutes down the road, Tom was still reeling. His phone rang, Mark’s number popped up. Ugh, why couldn’t he just go the fuck away for a while?_  
_“What? What the fuck are you going to try to pin on me now?” What a friendly way to answer the phone._  
_“Don’t be such a dick, Tom.” Fuck you, Mark, are you fucking serious?_  
_“No, man, fuck off. Just fuck right off, I’m done with this shit.” Tom’s finger smashed the end button, holding it long enough to shut the phone off. He had no intentions of answering it for the rest of the night._

          This wasn’t the first time that Tom replayed that fight in his head. It stung everytime, because more and more, he was starting to see how Mark was right. The person staring back at him in the mirror didn’t even look like Tom anymore. He looked.. _foreign._ Bags under his eyes, hair he was too lazy to cut, papery skin, and eyes that had no life in them anymore.

** And the beaches, stretched out with soldiers with their arms and guns. It has just begun. **

          If Mark wanted a fight, he sure as hell got one. Throw up a defensive fucking wall when all Tom wanted to do was talk? Yeah, right back 'atcha, asswipe. Tom was done, he’d had it, and he wasn’t about to take this sitting down.  
          All Tom wanted was a break. Just a fucking break, so he could clear his head, so he could get away from Mark and the stupid tension that seemed to surround them when they were together. He just wanted things to go back to the way they used to be, back when Mark loved him, back when he didn’t feel like he was walking on eggshells around his bestfriend. In his mind, he’d tried everything, and his last resort was to run. When Mark wouldn’t let him run, Tom started fighting back. Most people saw it as the beginning of the end, when, in reality, that had happened much earlier.

** And the houses laid out like targets. With a deafening sound, we watched them all go down. **

_“Rick, whenever you hear from him, tell Tom we have the Music for Relief show coming up soon. It’s scheduled and all set to go.”  
          “Sure thing, man. I’ll be intouch.”_

          In reality, that’s probably how the conversation between Mark and Rick Devoe went concerning the benefit concert that blink-182 was meant to appear at. In Tom’s mind at the time, he was sure it went something like this:

_“Rick, you know how Tom wanted a break for awhile? Well, fuck what he wants, I’ve scheduled this benefit show just to piss him off, so make sure you rub that in his face so he doesn’t forget.”_

          Tom had reached the point of warping everything Mark did into a personal attack. In his mind, it wasn’t without warrant. He would often catch Mark making sly little comments at him, things like, “ _Oh, did you forget you’re recording with blink again_ ,” or, “ _Maybe you can do that with the next band you start_ ,” or, Tom’s personal favourite, “ _Sorry, this isn’t your solo project._ ”  
          Fuck, Mark really knew how to push Tom’s buttons. Slowly but surely, one by one, he managed to press every single one.

** And the families, now useless bodies. They lay, still black and blue, a gift from us to you. **

          Thirteen years of memories flashed in Tom’s mind, bringing a slight chuckle from his throat. Thirteen years, and this is what they’d been reduced to. They were less than strangers now, less than someone you walk past on the street. Infact, at this point, most people would call them enemies, and Tom could feel himself sinking with the thought.  
          What were people supposed to think, though? That’s exactly how it seemed. After the break up, the quick formation of two new bands seemed like they were gearing up for something. Gearing up for a battle, a war. Preparing to take eachother down with nothing but well-aimed words fashioned into witty rhymes designed to cut straight to the core. While this album wasn’t meant to be an attack, exactly, Tom realized that some of the things he’d said and done in interviews were subconscious jabs at Mark, little things to get his attention and make him fight back. If he fought back, that meant he still cared, right?  
          Only, he _hadn’t_ fought back, yet. Mark avoided interviews, avoided talking about much of anything publicly besides his new band. Tom noticed. Ofcourse he noticed.

** Believe.. you want this. **

_“Hey Mark, hey, listen to this. This could make a sick song,” Tom said as Mark walked back inside after having a cigarette. It was kind of their little secret that he was smoking again. Well, the band’s little secret. Tom’s fingers fumbled across the strings of his acoustic guitar, failing to hit the right chords to match the riff he had in his head._  
           _Mark sighed. He was frustrated. Tom tried to ignore it._  
 _“Fuck, hold on, I’ll get it. You have to hear this shit.”_  
 _So Tom was a little shaky. So what? He could still play this fucking piece of shit instrument properly. He cursed himself silently as his fingers refused to cooperate._  
 _“Goddammit!” Tom threw his guitar on the couch beside him. Why the fuck couldn’t he get that song right? He cracked his knuckles and tried to keep from noticing how much his hands were shaking._  
 _“So, how many,” Mark finally asked. What? What was he talking about? Oh.._  
 _Tom shoved his hands in his pockets. ”What?”_  
 _“How many pills, Tom?” Silence._  
 _“Why did Travis leave, anyway? I like, just got here and shit.” Tom was up, pacing, trying to avoid the fight he knew was inevitably coming._  
 _“Well, you were two hours fucking late, maybe? We can’t all just wait for you.”_  
 _“I said I was sorry when I walked in, you know. You can’t hold everything over my head all the time,” Tom spat._  
 _“I can when you’re always high and you expect this band to revolve around you!”_  
 _And so began another one of their many fights. It was always turning out like this lately. After a few minutes of heated arguing, Tom was up and grabbing his shit to leave, cursing Mark the whole way out._  
 _“Tom, where do you think you’re going?! You’re not okay to drive right now!”_  
 _“What, you choose now to care?! Don’t bullshit me, Mark! You don’t give a fuck at all, you haven’t in years!”_  
 _In that moment, he could almost hear something snap inside of Mark. His patience, his willpower, whatever it was - something snapped, and Mark resigned._  
 _“You know what? Fine. Fucking fine. I don’t give a fuck what you do.”_  
 _With that, Tom drove away, and Mark walked back into the studio._

** Believe.. I want this, too. **

          “You walked out, Tom. You left,” he kept reminding himself.  
          Tom had always been stubborn, and that’s what kept him from caving now. He was too stubborn to turn back, too stubborn to admit he’d made a mistake. Or maybe just too hurt. Either way, he had to keep telling himself that this was his decision, and now he had to live with it.  
          Besides, would Mark even _want_ him to come back? Hadn’t he said that he didn’t care? Tom clung to that statement, hoping it would somehow help him convince himself that he did, indeed, want this. So what if he was miserable right now? So what if he always felt heartbroken? Mark didn’t care. Mark doesn’t care. Everyone has to grow up sometime, right?  
          And yet, Tom still sat, arguing with himself.

** Why won’t you tell me that it’s almost over? **

_It was the first time in a long time that Mark and Tom had hung out together, just the two of them, outside of the band. Tom didn’t want to let himself get too excited, but the fact that Mark had called him up and said to meet at their old spot gave Tom a funny feeling in his stomach.  
          He sat down beside Mark at the edge of a small cliff by the ocean. Neither of them said a word until Tom finally broke the silence.  
          “I love this spot. The ocean looks fucking gnarly from here.”  
          “Mhm.” More silence.  
          Suddenly, Tom felt something warm against his hand. Skin. It was a feeling he hadn’t felt in entirely too long. He locked his fingers with Mark’s and let a tiny smile creep across his face.  
          “I missed this,” he sighed quietly.  
          Mark still didn’t speak. All he did was nod.  
          Tom didn’t know how much time had gone by, them just sitting there in silence, hand in hand, watching the ocean. Somehow, he knew that the feeling he had in his stomach earlier wasn’t a happy one, and that was becoming more and more obvious. Something about the whole situation felt more like an ending than anything else. Tom refused to let that be the case without a fight.  
          “So did you call me out here to talk about something, or what?”  
          Mark shook his head, his eyes fixated on the ocean. That fucking asshole, he hadn’t looked at Tom once since he got here.  
          “Why won’t you look at me? Hey, what the fuck, dude?” His fear and frustration was starting to get the best of him.  
          “Shut up, Tom.”  
          “Oh, he speaks! Praise the heavens,” Tom shot back sarcastically. ”Seriously, what’s going on?”  
          Finally, Mark looked over at Tom, and.. _ fuck. _It looked like there were tears in his eyes. Great. Well, what a big manfest this turned out to be. Mark chuckled dryly and shook his head, looking back out towards the water.  
          Tom understood what Mark wasn’t able to bring himself to say. This _ was _the end of something._

** Why must this tear my head inside out? **

          Why was he still dwelling on everything so hard? Why was this all he could possibly think about? He spent _hours_ replaying the fights, the tiny conversations, the pointless gestures - trying to analyze them, figure everything out, see where everything went wrong and how he could’ve prevented it. He’d exhausted himself to the point where he didn’t even have the energy to be angry.  
          Sometimes, Tom took himself for nothing more than a hopeless fool. A tired, beaten fool with nothing left to give, offering mere pieces of the shell he was left with. **This is what blink-182 had done to him.** This is what Mark had done, and perhaps what Tom had ultimately brought upon himself.  
          Tom got up and went to bed, feeling like nothing more than a shadow of a man.


	7. The Gift

** There's the strangest excitement today. If you're awake, then you're welcome to hear. **

          Tired eyes met a digital clock a foot and a half away - _5:09am, December 13th, 2005._ Tom groaned as he rolled out of bed, bare feet landing on cold stone floor and goosebumps traveling over his entire body. He grabbed his robe and wrapped it tightly around his previously exposed midsection. The thought of no longer sleeping in just boxers crossed his mind, and he began to warm up to it when he entertained the idea of sleeping in an oven instead.  
          The fucking thirteenth. Great. Ugh, what the fuuuuck, why did this day have to come? He didn't need a birthday. It was all just one big lame-ass reminder of how much different his life was now and how much fun his birthdays used to be. Oh, and another year to add on to that ever-climbing age number. Awesome!  
          Even the bathroom mirror refused to go easy on him, only reminding his tired eyes how shitty he looked. Guess it comes with being thirty, Tom groaned internally. He ran a hand through his unwashed hair and reached into the medicine cabinet for his morning dose of life.  
          Why was he even awake at this hour? No birds, the sun wasn't up, no loud noises... Internal clock, maybe? He scoffed. Yeah, sure, internal clock - wound up on self-loathing with a dash of pity thrown in at every tick. That was a real winner.  
          Hoodie on, sweatpants on, crutch safely in his pocket - happy fucking birthday, asshole.  
          He hid away in his studio just like every other day, sipping his coffee while waiting for his computer to come on. Okay, maybe not like _every_ other day - maybe he felt the need to be connected to the world on this joyous day of his birth; maybe he wanted to buy some dynamite off Ebay and blow himself up - what did it matter? The sudden light from the monitor contrasted harshly with the dark room, and a part of Tom cursed himself for not expecting it. His eyes ached. He pressed his palms into his eye sockets and rubbed them roughly, trying to help them adjust. Nope, no luck. God, he already resented the entire day.

** I got a gift, and it blew me away, from the far eastern sea straight to here. **

          Before he even realized it, his fingers were making their way across the keyboard, typing in things without any prior thought. He squinted at the screen in another attempt to adjust to the unfamiliar lighting, and he recognized the webpage that was brought up despite the blurriness. All Tom could muster was a defeated sigh in response. He should've expected no less from his own goddamn self.  
          Mark's Myspace page towered infront of his face like an angry parent punishing a child. Tom kept his head down as shame rippled through his body. Fuck, even when he was alone, he still found himself revolting.  
          Bullshit aside, he wondered why he was sitting there trying to act like he had any pride left. Who was around to judge him at such a stupid hour in the morning, anyway? Only himself, and God knows the ache in his chest to check up on Mark would overpower any better judgement he had for those few fleeting seconds.  
          "Fuck it," he muttered with resignation. This was his sad, pathetic birthday present to himself, he decided. Besides, what if Mark left a birthday wish for him or something? Could he live knowing he blindly turned away from that?  
          The page scrolled down while his still burning eyes searched for some acknowledgement, any sort of nod towards Tom or what day it was. Even the tiniest, simplest thing would do.  
          "Let's see, last thing posted... Ah, here, less than an hour ago. Well well, I wonder what this could be."  
          A post about Mark's new band with Travis, it seemed. Great. That's just what Tom wanted to see. He continued to skim through the words Mark wrote, mouse hovering over the website at the bottom of it all. So, plusfortyfour.com, hm? +44... The UK? What, was Mark planning to move east or something?  
          In the middle of that thought, the masochist in Tom took over and clicked the link.

** Oh God, I feel like I'm in for it now. It's like the rush has gone straight to my brain. **

          Tom had about half a second and an eyeroll (which he undoubtedly took advantage of, mind you) to beat himself up for clicking it before life showed up with other plans. Strange how things unfold that way, isn't it? Here we have a man, it's his thirtieth birthday, and for those thirty years of his life, he had shaped a particular idea about himself, about the world around him. Then suddenly, in less time than it takes to actually say "life-altering event," one happens and shakes this poor man to his very core. **BOOM!** \- that fucking fast.  
          The webpage loaded about halfway, and then autoplay unleashed its assault on Tom Delonge as a person, as a human, as an emotional being. It would not rest until it saw him completely destroyed, soul lying in shambles housed in the body of a broken man. Music surrounded the unsuspecting Sagittarius, followed swiftly by the deep, pain-soaked voice of the man Tom used to call his bestfriend - Mark Hoppus.  
_"Please understand..."_  
          The sound pierced through Tom, and his lungs struggled to find air in all of it. There was an immediate sense of panic, but it was soon overshadowed by an all-consuming feeling of helplessness.  
_"This isn't just goodbye..."_  
          Every defense, every fake smile, every wall Tom had ever built came down around him, crumbling so violently that he couldn't even grasp at a strand of the false sanity it once offered.  
_"This is I can't stand you..."_  
          The words sank straight into Tom's soul, redefining everything he thought he was. Pure sadness, loneliness, despair, anguish, hate - he heard all of it wrapped into the voice he once so loved hearing. God, he could practically see the misery dripping from Mark's lyrics. The immense pain it was causing Tom was too much - adrenaline coursed through his veins like acid, leaving his mind to cave in on itself. All he could think, taste, feel - only static.  
_Happy fucking birthday._

** But my voice is as lonely as loud as I whisper a joy of this pain. **

          Tom was crushed under the weight of it all, from the inside out and back again. Words eluded him; they were a foreign concept at this point. It didn't even matter. He sat there in silence as No It Isn't played on a loop. He let the song, Mark's voice, envelope him and go through him and saturate every pore. It was his own personal torture, and he fucking deserved it. He deserved the agony, the emptiness, and every bit of the blame. This is what he'd done. _This was his fault._  
          Yet somehow... Somehow, he felt happy. Happier than he'd felt in ages, really. It was odd - here he was, completely destroyed, totally empty, with a big stupid sincere smile on his face, and it wasn't even some twisted masochistic thing.  
          All Tom could focus on  (after the initial heart-wrenching desperation, ofcourse) was the fact that Mark remembered. Mark remembered Tom's birthday. Not only that, but Mark gave Tom a song. He wrote it, recorded it, spent time on it, planned it all out for this particular day, this specific event. Hours must have been spent on it, which ultimately meant hours with the brown-eyed guitarist in mind. Mark thought about Tom _that_ much.  
          His smile grew wider, brighter, almost to the point of making his cheeks hurt. He closed his eyes and slowly shook his head before laughing a short, quiet laugh at the irony of everything. How could a happiness like this coexist with so much agony?  
          The sinking pit of loneliness Tom had grown so accustomed to feeling in the pit of his stomach suddenly wasn't there anymore. It was a strange sensation. That deep emptiness had been building up inside of him for far too long; it was something he'd come to accept as a simple fact of life, something unavoidable You know, like death and taxes. Death, taxes, black hole of despair - these were Tom's truths. It stunned him that a feeling so gigantic and overpowering could be erased so quickly, but it most certainly had. Just like that. He could almost feel the sheer weightlessness of it all floating through the pieces of his broken heart. Amazing how joy and pain go together hand in hand, he thought.

** And suddenly, you've done it all. You've won me over in no time at all. **

          Thoughts carried on racing through Tom's mind, falling over themselves and getting lost in the static that still waited undertow. "No It Isn't" repeated over and over in the background, and it never got easier to deal with. It hurt on a deeper level than he thought possible, but that was something Mark always knew how to do. He could craft a song with a sharper edge than any blade; Mark thought out every word and carefully placed them in the most opportune fashion, forming a perfectly planned line that could cut someone straight to their core, because he knew how to make it personal yet beautiful. Having lost track of time, Tom had no idea how many times he'd heard the song now. That was okay. It was his birthday present, and it was perfect.  
          A new smile formed across his features, pulling the corners of his mouth upward again before his cheeks had a chance to fully recover. He could feel the all-but-forgotten butterflies fluttering around in his tummy for the first time since... Too long, he concluded. He welcomed them with open arms, relishing in the nostalgia that accompanied them as they floated through the part of him that once felt totally hollow. They made him feel alive. Most days, he would blame that or any similar feeling in his stomach on the handful of painkillers he'd swallowed already, or maybe on the alcohol he'd been chasing them with. Not this time, though - no, he knew this time was different, and it was fantastic.  
          After another swig of the poison infront of him, there was a small moment of hesitation. He questioned briefly what exactly he'd put into his system at this point, and how much more he could handle. Not surprisingly, he'd lost count of how many painkillers his body consumed since first hearing Mark's song. No telling how much liquor he'd drenched them in, either.  
          Tom was still smiling all the same. Only Mark could get this sort of teenage-girl reaction out of him, that dick. Nothing else in his life could bring him to his knees like this; nothing else could make him smile this way; nothing else made him feel alive. Just Mark - a smelly punk from southern California that loved to make dick jokes and smoke cigarettes. _It was always Mark._  
          The computer chair spun slightly at the absence of weight in it. Tom left it behind as he moved to the couch in anticipation of all the drugs that were about to kick in. Standing up was already a task, he noticed, no doubt thanks to the alcohol, and he held onto whatever object was closest to assist in hobbling to his destination. Goddammit, it was so much work. Better safe than sorry, though, right? A dry chuckle was all he had to say to that thought, his head already resting safely on a pillow before the chuckle even finished. He threw his arm over his eyes, guarding them in the crook of his elbow. When he was finally comfortable, he let out a deep breath and sank into relaxation.  
          Just as expected, the drug haze hit with full force within a few minutes of Tom lying down. It blanketed his senses with a dull euphoria tinted in greens and blues, tiny flecks of orange and yellow glistening through it. Reality started getting away from him - it was a lightly hued smoke that slipped right through his fingers and disappeared before his eyes. He was more than okay with it all; his tired consciousness welcomed the escape with open arms as he let go entirely. Why fight it? Besides, it was his birthday, and he preferred to spend it in a place where he was happy.  
          It was incredible. His consciousness floated, swayed, shifted, slipped through space and time. A nice, contented sigh escaped his lips as he felt himself fade away from the reality around his physical body. There was somewhere else he had to be, he could feel it. It was calling out to him. His soul ached being away from it. He continued to slide through dimensions, and time shifted, warped, molded itself. A memory began to take shape as he watched silently; every single fibre of every single thing that surrounded him was altering, reconstructing into something he recognized. Matter was being formed from seemingly nothing yet everything at the same time. It was the closest thing to a miracle he had ever experienced, and his awareness weaved in and out of the fabric of creation. It was vivid and beautiful. The ache in his soul ceased as Tom grounded himself in the fully remade world, the new reality that sprung up around him. Weird, he remembered this place...  
          Tom turned around, only to be immediately sucked in and suffocated by intense blue oceans, clear as the sky, vibrant and full of life and staring right through him in a way he hadn't experienced in way too long. Eyes. He knew those eyes. _Oh fuck._  
          There was Mark, standing right infront of Tom with a huge smile and alcohol on his breath. Tom choked.

** If you ask, I will do what you say.  All we have is this night to get through. **

_The weather was surprisingly pleasant for late October.  It was just nippy enough to have a slight chill in the air, but not cold enough to be uncomfortable.  Skateboarding in a short sleeved shirt was made for weather like this, whereas simply standing around outside would require a jacket once dusk rolled around.  It was what many people would consider perfect.  Perhaps that was just one of the perks of living in San Diego.  
          Two drunk boys staggered into the oldest of the pair's room in the middle of the night, the darkness suddenly filled with their prolonged glances and secret desires.  The younger one shushed his friend, demanding his attention before pulling a fifth of vodka out of one of the deep pockets in his baggy jeans.  Hushed whispers revealed that the bottle had been stolen from the Halloween party they were at earlier, and the two decided to drink to the sneaky seventeen year old's swiping skills.  
          "Halloween of '92, fuck yeah!  Here's to fucking your dad and becoming your new step-father," the twenty year old exclaimed still in a bit of a whisper.  A clink came from the tiny shotglasses as they connected shortly before traveling to each boy's lips, burning alcohol washing down their throats at the same time.  
          "Dude, why are we whispering?  It's your fucking shitty apartment," Tom said with a laugh on his breath.  
          Mark giggled with him.  "I have no fucking idea, man.  People live upstairs, but..."  He trailed off as he walked over to his dresser in search of an ashtray, Marlboro Light being lit in the process.  He took his hat off and threw it towards the closet, followed by his shirt, all while he kept the cigarette balanced in his lips.  
          Tom took another shot of vodka.  His eyes were fixed on his bestfriend, watching every move his body made.  _ God, he was intoxicating. _All he wanted to do was wrap his arm's around Mark's waist, hold his hand, be close to him.  It was fucking eating at him inside._ He just wanted to be close to him. _  
He chuckled aloud to himself, amazed at how ridiculously manly he was becoming.  
          "What's funny," Mark asked as he put his cigarette out.  
          "You have your dad's butt," Tom grinned in response.  
          "Aw Tommyboy, were you over there staring at my ass?!"  
          "For science, homo.  Genetics and shit."  
          "Uh huhhh, you wanna get a better look at it, don't you?"  Mark's stupid smile took over his face, it made him glow, then he turned around and started to bend over just to be a gigantic dick.  
          "Oh, I can't resist it," Tom squealed. "Let me pee on your butt, Mark!  You can call me Fabio while I do it, I know that's what you dream about!"  He giggled uncontrollably as Mark tried to sensually rub his ass.  What a dickhole.  
          "Oh, but Thomas..." Mark tried to say it seductively and ended up sounding like an old woman.  Tom was laughing so hard that his bladder was screaming.  
          "Really gotta pee, though, oh man, hold on," he said as he bolted out of the room in the direction of the bathroom, his notoriously small bladder getting the best of him again.  Intoxication was replacing his balance, and he giggled with every stumble.  Dammit, he was so giddy!  A night like this with Mark was always the one thing that could get him in this mood.  That's half the reason why these were his favourite nights.  
          The mirror caught Tom's attention in the bathroom, and he finally noticed how sweaty he was.  When did it get so fucking hot?  More importantly, what the fuck had he spilled on his shirt?  He shrugged and took it off, tossing it to the floor.  Kill two birds with one stone, fuck yeah.  
          He walked back into Mark's room, still giggling as he staggered around.  
          "Dude, Tom, I hea-"  Tom loudly cut him off when he entered.  
          "Mark, you asswipe, I fucking love y-"  
          Graceful as ever, Tom managed to trip mid-sentence over a pile of shit that his lazy ass bestfriend left right in the middle of his fucking pathway, that dickweed.  Gravity didn't waiver for teenagers with too much alcohol in their systems, and Tom's arms flailed in a panic as he went down, reaching for something, anything, to keep him from falling.  Mark happened to be the closest thing, just as graceful as his brown-eyed counterpart, so Tom ended up pulling him down with him.  A resounding **thud** marked their destined arrival on the floor.  Goddammit, that did not feel like falling onto a cloud.  Instead of a hard floor, though, the younger boy felt warmth there.  He opened his eyes and looked down.  
          Sure enough, there was Mark, right underneath him.  Tom was entirely ontop of him, pinning the boy to the floor, their eyes totally lever with one another.  Oh God, how many times had Tom thought about ending up in this exact position?  Ofcourse, he'd planned for it to go a little smoother, maybe with more kissing or something, but he would take what he could get.  Moonlight spilled through Mark's tiny window, illuminating the blue eyes staring directly into Tom's.  His breath was taken away for a moment.  The moonlight reflected in Mark's eyes, making them practically glow an icy pale blue as they pierced into Tom's deep brown ones.  _ How fucking beautiful could one human be _, he wondered, noticing the accents and shadows the light caused on the face below him.  His breath finally returned, and through the ridiculously loud sound of his pulse in his ears, he could hear them both breathing heavily, slowly, from the fall.  He couldn't take his eyes off Mark, couldn't interrupt the current status of things, even after noticing how long they'd been on the floor staring at eachother.  
          "Kiss me, Tom."  
          Lips collided with lips, passion crashing down around both of them in suffocating waves of euphoria.  Hesitation had no part in this equation - there was no second thought.  Tom's right hand rested lightly under Mark's chin, tilting his face up to bring his lips even closer.  He was soft, he was tender - it wasn't an overpowering force, and it wasn't one of those sloppy kisses teenage couples share before ripping eachother's clothes off.  _ This was fucking sensual; **it was intimate.** _Mark's lips were so soft as they moved in unison with Tom's, their subtle movements matching and pushing the other forward.  The hands of the young guitarist made their way up into the older boy's hair, one resting on the back of his neck to pull him closer.  Calloused fingers trailed up Tom's sides, under his shoulders, finally allowing Mark's arms to wrap around his neck and pull him deeper into the kiss.  Their breathing flooded Tom's ears, mixing with the sound of his own heartbeat to make an oddly perfect combination.  Soft noises came from them, complimented perfectly by the small gasp Mark let out when Tom bit his lip gently before pulling away, his hands still in the hair of the beautiful boy beneath him.  
          Their faces were only a couple inches away from eachother, both boys still gasping and trying to catch their breath.  Mark stared up at Tom with such an intensity, he could see tidal waves of emotion in the gorgeous blue spheres.  Their gaze was locked, held, and said everything they'd needed to say for too long without any words.  It was evident, it was all over their faces; it was all around them and throughout them - _ this was so much more than just sex, more than the alcohol in their systems, more than anything they'd ever felt in their lives.   
           _Tom put his forehead to Mark's as a smile played at his face, eye contact constantly maintained.  They both knew._ **This was completely real, and it was going to change their lives forever.**

** With a twist of your smile your own way, you left me all up in arms and confused. **

_Before Tom knew it, he found himself on his back, Mark staring down at him.  A part of him wanted to question it, while a part of him was too caught up in everything to bother.  His arms stayed resting around Mark's neck while those blue eyes studied his, searched him, tried to figure him out.  For just a moment, Mark pulled back, putting some space between their bodies, and really let his eyes take in the sight of Tom beneath him.  The moonlight bounced off his slightly tanned skin perfectly, making him look otherworldly.  His bare chest continued rising and falling in the pale glow with his still heavy breathing.  Mark bit his lip, his eyes darting back to the brown ones he was getting lost in.  They caught the light just right, reflecting flecks of dark green within the deep brown.  They were wide, but not in a fearful way; they looked up at Mark with a vulnerability that he'd never seen before, glazed over by lust.  He was fucking beautiful, and, even if it was just for the moment,_ he was his.   
          _The brown eyes beneath Mark followed every move he made with utmost curiosity.  He noticed this, and that signature Hoppus smile appeared on his face.  He had an idea._  
 _Mark's hands found Tom's, holding onto them and intertwining with his fingers tightly.  He adjusted his position to straddle Tom's waist carefully, smile still shining from his face.  Tom knew where this was going and tried for only a second to squirm away, but it was too late - Mark leaned down, holding onto Tom's hands and stretching them above his head, and placed his mouth beside the boy's ear.  His breath was sending chills down Tom's spine, goosebumps across his entire body.  Mark moved a little bit, his nose brushed past Tom's ear, as he slowly, gently brought his teeth to Tom's earlobe, biting it, gasping into his ear.  Chills were racing up the younger boy's spine, causing him to squirm and shudder, his hips pushing up against Mark.  He didn't push back, however - he simply continued to keep Tom's hands pinned while his lips traced over his collarbone._  
 _Moans were lacing the desperate gasps coming from the boy pinned to the floor.  His hips were pushing into Mark more and more, even though he tried to control it.  That famous smile returned as his eyes fell upon the writhing body beneath him for a moment before the Pisces bit his lip and moved his lips to Tom's ear again._  
 _"I want to feel how hard you are for me," he breathed as lust saturated his voice.  Tom whimpered, struggling to get his hands free for a moment before resigning._  
 _"Just for me," he continued in almost a low growl, breathing heavily into Tom's ear.  "You're all mine."  The groan from beneath him sent chills down his spine.  He smiled_.  All his.

** Oh God, I feel like I'm in for it now, and how this kiss will be one wonderfully vain. **

_Tom could feel every nerve-ending overloading.  His body was in a constant state of shivers, squirming as each chill shot up his spine.  He'd never felt anything like this.  When Mark finally released his hands, he couldn't get them around him fast enough.  His fingers tangled in the older boy's hair, grabbing him and pulling their lips together finally.  He sucked at Mark's bottom lip gently, moaning in response when it got a gasp out of him.  His hands kept tangling in the older boy's hair, trying to pull him closer and closer.  Their bodies pressed together, and he felt Mark's right hand tracing circles down his side, igniting fires under his skin wherever he touched.  His hands traveled downwards, having finally let go of the fistfuls of hair, and his nails dug deep onto Mark's back as his lips began exploring Tom's neck, teeth scraping gently across his throat before settling into the bend of his shoulder and neck, biting and sucking softly._  
           _His breathing was sporadic, coming out more in pants and moans than anything at this point.  Another whimper escaped his throat as Mark brushed against his ear, his hips pressing up against the body ontop of him.  There was a soft groan from Mark before he moved to readjust the bottom half of their bodies, never separating them more than he had to.  He settled for being slightly inbetween Tom's legs, their hips meeting in a way that even the slightest thrust would be amazing.  Their lips returned to eachother once again, deep and passionate and raw.  Tom let his nails scrape down Mark's sides roughly, to which Mark responded by finally pushing his hips into Tom's._  
 _He let out a deep, aching moan, Mark's name rolling off his tongue.  The Sagittarius wasn't even sure if the noise he made at that point was human, but he didn't care.  Everything about Mark felt so good.  He pushed his hips into Mark again, which made him push back at the same time, and Tom could swear he saw stars in that moment.  His eyes squeezed shut, his arched his back to get closer to the boy ontop of him, and his breath hitched in his throat._  
 _Then Tom turned the tables on the older boy.  He gasped and sighed, lips right against Mark's ear, sending chills all throughout the blue-eyed boy's body._  
 _"Moan my name, Mark.  Please," he halfway begged, and Mark caved.  He completely and totally caved.  Their hips met again, and Mark moaned Tom's name like a fucking swear word._

** I swear I'll melt if you touch me at all, but then I'll ask you to do it again, and again. **

_Mark could feel how close Tom was getting; he could feel how much this was getting to both of them.  Their bodies were squirming, aching to get closer to the other, bucking their hips and clawing their skin, gasping for air that their lungs didn't want to take in.  Tom's face was in Mark's shoulder, kissing and biting the sensitive skin under his ear.  It was enough to push Mark over the edge, but he fought it.  He refused to finish before Tom._  
           _He leaned over, holding himself up on his left elbow, allowing his right hand enough room to trail down Tom's body and between them.  There wasn't much space put between them - even Mark wasn't strong enough to fight it that hard - just enough to sneak his hand between their hips.  Tom had his fingers tangled in Mark's hair again, pulling him into another soul-devouring kiss.  Fingertips trailed across the younger boy's chest, down his tummy, stopping just below his bellybutton to drag his nails across the delicate skin.  Moans floated through their kisses while Mark's hand continued to sneak lower, pausing at the waistband of Tom's pants as if to ask permission.  Tom's hips pushed upwards against Mark, begging him to continue.  One quick flick of the wrist and his jeans were unbuttoned, allowing Mark's hand to slip under the fabric of Tom's boxers._  
 _He kept his eyes on the older boy's hand as it went lower, his entire body on pins and needles in anticipation.  He looked up at Mark, their eyes holding contact for awhile before he finally began to caress Tom softly.  He gasped at the touch, Mark's name pouring from his throat with every moan dancing on his breath.  His hips pushed against Mark's hand involuntarily and drew more groans from him.  Mark bit his lip in an attempt not to get carried away himself, his hand still stroking the boy beneath him._  
 _Tom slipped his hand into Mark's free left hand and laced their fingers together tightly as he looked up into deep, suffocating, gorgeous blue eyes.  "Don't stop.  Please, Mark, don't stop," he choked out._  
 _Mark smiled._

** And now, I'll stop the storm if it rains.  I'll light a path far from here.  I'll make your fear melt away, and the world we know disappear. **

          Tom's eyes stayed shut as the painkillers wore off, snapping him back from his memory, yet not fully into reality.  He squeezed his eyes tighter, hoping somehow that it would return him to where he was.  It didn't.  Fuck, what would he have to do to get back there?  Take more fucking pills?  Die?  Why couldn't he have just stayed there for a few more minutes...  
          His mind was racing, trying to come up with any plan to get back to that memory, anything to get back just long enough to hear Mark say, "I love you."  His heart broke all around him, aching to return and hear all those emotions that were finally shared that night.  That was the first time they admitted anything, and that's when they admitted everything.  It was Tom's favourite memory, something he held closer to him than anyone could ever understand.  It was his most guarded secret, his closest memory, the thing that defined him more than any other experience of his life.  He sighed.  Ofcourse, he would wake up at the good part.  
          Even if it was just a memory replaying over and over, he would be happy.  It didn't have to be anything to live through.  Staying on autopilot forever as that memory replayed on a loop would be more than fine.  He had no idea what he would do, anyway, if he had to actually relive it.  Would he go into it with a blank slate?  Or would he go into it knowing all that he knows now?  He couldn't even say what he would've done differently if he'd known then what he knows now.  Would he have done anything differently?  That night was pretty perfect the way it was.  Maybe he would've run away with Mark way back then, before they had anyone else to worry about.  Maybe he could've kept him happy, offered him a different life...   _One where they would've been together._  
          Tom sighed.  He could feel the tears building up, even though his eyes were still clenched.  This was all fucking stupid.

** Make the world we know disappear. **

          There was a creaking noise in the background, which Tom knew to be the studio door.  He didn't react to it at all - he figured if he ignored it, it would go away.  He didn't even care. He just wanted to sleep, dream, die.  Anything but this.  
          "Your birthday dinner is in a couple hours, don't you wanna start getting ready," Jen asked, her head poked through the door.  Tom didn't open his eyes to see.  
          "Nah, I don't feel up for it tonight," he sighed, burying his face deeper into his arm and shutting everything else out.  Infact, he had no plans to move from that couch.  
          Tom heard her try several more times to get a response from him, but he couldn't be bothered to make a sound, much less form words.  Finally, he heard her leave and shut the stupid door, which meant he was free to wallow in his misery.  That's what he was best at these days.  
          Everything about today was stupid, he decided.  His birthday, the date, the fact that he was alive - everything.  Fuck today.  It was his fucking birthday, Mark remembered.  That was the only part that wasn't stupid.  Why couldn't he just stay locked in his memories of them together?  Maybe locked in the memories of shit they'd done together for his past birthdays...   **Anything.**  Anything was better than not having him at all.  He got up and wobbled over to the computer, starting "No, It Isn't" again.  Even a song like this, designed to destroy him - even it was better than nothing at all.   _Why did it fucking come to this?_  He sighed.  
          Birthdays are fucking stupid.


	8. It Hurts

** Is this what you want?  'Cause everybody acts without a clue. **

          A day without the thing Tom had come to depend on most these days - his painkillers.  He wasn't sure what had sparked this stupid idea, but it seemed great last night while he was high.  Write a song sober, let your true feelings come out, blahblahblah.  
        "You're such a dumbass, Delonge," he sighed to himself, laying down on his couch with the usual paper and pen.  If he was going to go through all this trouble, he better get a damn good song out of it.  
        He sat in the dimly lit room for awhile, letting his mind wander to various things.  Food, painkillers, chocolate, painkillers, squirrels, painkillers, acorns, painkillers, painkillers, painkillerspainkillerspainkillersfuck.  
        Noises were coming from the other room; Jen was obviously doing something strenuous.  _Jen._   How did he end up married to her again?  That was never the plan, Tom thought.  Originally, Tom was seeing her to keep the rumours down about what was going on with Mark.  She was awesome, she was beautiful, and Tom felt like an asshole for not marrying her for the right reasons.

** Every little kiss and grin you gave was just some little bullshit I saw through. **

          The real reason he married her, if he were to be honest with himself, was to get back at Mark.  He wasn't mad at Mark when he started dating Skye; after all, it kept people from suspecting there was something going on between the two men.  What he didn't expect was how far Mark took the whole charade with Skye.

_The room was busy, people walking and talking and drinking everywhere.  It was fancy.  Too fancy for Tom's taste, and nothing Mark would've enjoyed.  Tom knew Skye was the one that planned this event.  Since when did he go to dinner parties?  
        Oh, right.  Since _ women _were in their lives.  He groaned internally at this thought._  
         _He looked around for Mark, hoping for some feeling of familiarity in this uncomfortable environment.  Finally, he saw him, standing beside Skye with a practiced smile and drowning himself in a beer.  Not his first one, judging by the way he was standing.  Tom made his way over, watching those blue eyes light up as he noticed._  
 _"Mark, what the fuck is this?  You are not going all fancy pants on me," Tom whispered when he reached Mark._  
 _"No way, dude, Skye did this, and I.. just.. have you tried the food?  Fucking delicious."  He held up some sort of fancy muffin shaped thing and Tom blinked at it._  
 _"..Is that a fucking muffin?"_  
 _"Looks like, huh?"  He looked up at Tom and smiled that stupid smile again, ugh, fuck him and that smile.  "I'm glad you're here, Tom."  He reached out and pulled Tom into the deepest hug he possibly could, given they were in public._  
 _It was interrupted by the sound of metal on glass, followed by, "Excuse me, hii, can I have your attention?  Everyone?"  Skye.  Mark pulled away and motioned for Tom to go sit down, flashing him a smile before rushing over to her side._  
 _"Glad you all could make it out!  So this dinner is umm.. well.. I have a bit of an announcement!  Mark and I, we, uh, have an announcement, actually."_  
 _ Oh god, no.  Please no.  No no no.  Tom could feel his heart trying to jump out of his chest._  
 _"We're getting married!"_  
        All the air was stolen from Tom's lungs.

**The alcohol is scented with your breath.  You're always all done up to just be used.**

          Tom clenched his teeth as he remembered that night.  Why didn't Mark tell him about it first?  Why didn't he mention that he was going to propose to her?  That wasn't the fucking plan.  Finding someone else was not a part of the plan.  Marrying someone else certainly wasn't part of the plan.  They had a fucking plan.  
        He sighed and draped his arm over his eyes, unable to stop his mind from continuing with the thought process it had started.  
        From that point on, there was a crack in the foundation of their relationship.  Mark married Skye, and Tom married Jen shortly after.  It was out of revenge, they both knew it.  Tom felt like Mark had given up all hopes of them being anything more than a secret when no one was watching, and it hurt.  He watched Mark start drinking more, and he watched Mark go on autopilot around his wife.  
        That word was still hard for Tom to come to terms with.  His _wife_.  What the fuck happened?

** I'm waiting for excuses that deceive.  I'll meet you in the back to see them through. **

          Being married didn't stop what happened when Mark and Tom were alone together.  When they were finally able to get away from everything else and be themselves with eachother, it was the same as it'd always been.  They still fooled around, they still talked, they still slept together, they still woke up in eachother's arms - they were still inlove.  Tom lived for those times.  
        Being married also didn't stop them from sneaking off to have sex whenever they found possible.

           _A double date, Tom sighed.  Who really thought this was a good idea?  It was much more fun when he could just get Mark alone and do whatever, having the wives along made it a totally different situation.  
        _ The wives. _He scoffed._  
         _Besides, girls always picked stupid movies, so now he was stuck in this stupid cinema watching some stupid love film about stupid stupidness with stupid actors and stupid lines.  It was all stupid._  
 _He looked across the two seats between them and caught Mark's eye.  Mark motioned towards the door at the back of the room, Tom nodded in response.  He could hear Mark telling Skye something about the bathroom before getting up and giving Tom a wink over his shoulder._  
 _He looked funny when he winked, it made Tom smile.  He wasted no time in making the same excuse to Jen and hurrying towards the exit, bounding towards the bathroom once he was finally out of the theatre._  
 _"Le knock knock, sir, le roooooom service for a Mister Ben Dover~"  Mark giggled on the other side of the door, opening it to pull Tom in and locking it behind him again._  
 _Thank goodness for single person bathrooms._

** Are you out of your mind?  You dug yourself into a liar's hole.  You made a little spark to live inside.  It's now a fucking fire out of control. **

          It had to be bad karma or something to think of your wife like this, Tom thought to himself.  It wasn't her fault he didn't love her like he should.  She deserved so much more than he could give her.  She was a wonderful woman, and it wasn't fair to her that he was only giving her the least amount of himself possible.  He just loved someone else.  He was meant to be with someone else.  Not her.  
        He didn't mean for it to go this far.  He was only dating her so that he could keep seeing Mark and people wouldn't ask questions about why they were both single.  It was just easier keeping the secret this way.  Somehow, though, life had other plans, and it turned into this marriage.  This marriage that Tom existed in, but wasn't invested in.  
         _Figures_ , he thought.  Things never seemed to work out the way he planned.   Just like this whole painkiller idea.  He did not plan for it to feel so shitty.  His muscles ached, his whole body hurt all over.  Seems only fitting to add physical pain to emotional pain, might aswell jump infront of a moving bus while we're at it.  
        Tom found some sort of demented humour in that thought and let out a little chuckle, instantly regretting it when the sudden movement made his muscles feel like they were on fire.

** When the morning comes, you'll act surprised, and when the word gets out, it will get old, and everyday you'll try to live your life in every little scam that will unfold. **

          The burning stopped soon enough, and he relaxed back into the couch.  That little series of events pulled Tom's mind away from its original thoughts and onto the bigger picture.  _This is what he was mad about?_   Not Mark blocking him out, not being ignored everytime he tried to ask for his help, not being pushed away to the point where drugs were all he had left to turn to, but this?  Them getting married?  
        He left everything he'd worked for behind.  The band he started years and years ago, the band he'd lived for - gone.  So many people hated him for it.  The fans saw all of this as his fault.  None of them saw it coming.  What if they all forgot about him?  What if they all hated him now?  He'd let so many people down by leaving, but what the fuck was he supposed to do?  Any other day, he'd have the answer right infront of him, trapped in a glorious little orange bottle with his name on it.  Those wonderful little pills gave him the ability to put on the confident, happy front he had to put on when he was in public.  It was his fault blink-182 was over, and he accepted that.  Atleast, he wanted it to seem that way.  He didn't want the blame to fall on Mark or Travis, and certainly not Jen; he would shoulder all of it so they could go on and maybe be happy.  Aslong as he had his pills, he could live out this reality for them.  _For Mark._

** How did I let her inside?  We're dripping of sweat and feeling alright.  Her lips are the last thing touched tonight. **

          Even now, Tom did everything with Mark in mind.  He wrote this album as a way to reach Mark.  He said things in interviews to take the blame away from Mark.  He said things to try to make Mark hurt less, even if that meant he had to hate Tom.  Fuck, he even thought about Mark when he was in bed with his wife.  There wasn't a time that he could remember his mind being focused on the moment.  
        Instead, it was a million miles away, back in the old shitty bus blink first started out in.  Or maybe in a bathroom in the back of some restaurant.  Sometimes in the dressing room before or after a show, or a hotel room in any random town.  Tom could distinctly remember the way Mark smelled, the way he tasted, the way his skin felt against his own, the way he bit his lip and moaned his name.  He could remember perfectly how the sweat ran down their bodies, how their hips met, how their lips felt on eachother.  At the end of everynight, the very last thing Mark did was kiss Tom's forehead and whisper he loved him.

_Tom fell down ontop of Mark, breathless and worn out from the events that just took place.  He couldn't even bring himself to form words, yet; all he could do was listen to the way Mark's heart was still racing.  If he had been able to speak at that moment, all he would be able to do is ramble about how awesome that was and how much he loved him and how fucking sticky they were._  
        _Luckily, Mark was the first to break the silence.  "Pretty sure if anyone's around within a mile or two, they know our names well at this point."_  
 _"So much for being undercover agents."_  
 _"Like we were ever under any covers, Tom."_  
 _He slid off of Mark slightly, just enough that he could rest his head on his chest and drape his arm over his still sticky stomach.  The van was miserably hot, but it was the only place they had enough privacy.  He could feel his eyes closing against his will, he was so fucking tired.  Mark could tell, and he wrapped his arms tighter around the younger boy. Tom mumbled a few more words before he drifted off, words no one else would've been able to understand._  
 _Mark understood.  With a kiss to his forehead, he sighed, "I love you, too, shithead. **Too much.** "_

** Your bestfriend is not your girlfriend. **

          He loved him.  Mark really did love him.  Why the fuck did Tom leave?  Why was he sitting here in this stupid fucking room by himself, why was Mark not here anymore?  Why did Tom ever think he could get by without Mark?  Why did he think this was even a fucking possibility?  
        Tom pushed himself up off the couch as quickly as he could and went in search of his pills.  A bottle of alcohol made itself seen first, so a few gulps of that went down before he resumed searching.  Fuck being sober.  Fuck dealing with any of this.  Fuck his whole stupid fucking life and his stupid fucking existence.  
        On the bathroom floor with a pill bottle in hand, Tom was curled up into a ball and sobbing.  He didn't mean to be, what man curls up and cries on a floor?  But he couldn't help it.  He'd lost the most important person to him.  Mark was more than just his bestfriend, he was more than a lover, more than a bandmate.  It wasn't like Tom had a falling out with a friend and had someone else to turn to.  He lost everyone he had to turn to, all at one time, _all in one person._

** It hurts. **

          To add insult to injury, Tom ended up thinking about the last thing he heard Mark say.  Something about "manning up" or "being a man" or something along those lines.  Oh yeah, he was totally living up to that advice, curled up on the floor weeping like a little fucking girl.  Man, he'd really gone downhill recently.  What would Mark think if he saw him now?  
        It didn't matter.  Not even a little bit.  The pills were kicking in and Tom was done thinking about it.  He was done thinking at all.  He pulled himself off the floor, washed his face, and staggered towards his bed.  
        Fuck going another day without painkillers.


	9. Good Day

** I should have turned back; I should have known better than to walk away defeated. **

          Self-loathing is one thing that is damn hard to escape from.  It starts with the smallest thing, and from then on, it turns everything you do into another reason to hate yourself.  It's that tiny voice in the back of your head telling you every single thing that's wrong with you.  It eats you from the inside out.  
          For Tom, his ways of avoiding this were his trusty painkillers and alcohol.  Lately, though, they weren't cutting it so much.  He found himself getting more and more pissed off at how much he'd screwed everything up, and he had nothing else to blame it on but himself.  He fucked up.  He gave up too easily.  He ran away.  He was a fucking coward.  A selfish, cowardly, lying waste of human flesh, hiding behind a stupid bottle of pills while he ran around ruining everyone's lives.  Tired of making excuses for himself and his very obvious short-comings, he sat forward with his head in his hands and sighed deeply.  
          He wasn't always like this.  He used to be a decent person.  People liked him.  He knew what love was; he knew how to be happy without constantly trying to destroy it.  Now, he'd made his unhappiness into a self-fulfilling prophecy that he spread around to everyone he came into contact with, and who the fuck wants to be around that?  
          His family avoided him most of the time.  Or was he avoiding them?  He didn't want his daughter to see him like this.  Also, he didn't want to snap at Jen for things that weren't her fault.  Maybe it was a mutual avoidance.  Tom groaned in resignation.  
          Then there was Mark, and he certainly didn't want to be around it, that's for sure.  It was more than clear at the end.  As much as Tom told himself he tried, did he really?  Did he really do everything he could to salvage their relationship?  No, honestly, he didn't.  He gave up.  He walked away defeated.  Coming to terms with that was not easy for him to do, and he looked for any excuse for that not to be the case.  But alas, that was the case, and now it's time to make ammends for the bullshit he put everyone through -- the bullshit he put Mark through.  Another deep sigh escaped him as he pressed his palms into his eyes.  This was not going to be easy.

** I'll say it tonight, I'll say it forever, and this time I really swear I mean it.  Oh, I need you now. **

          Tom reached under his couch and pulled out his little stash box, rolling up a joint before sitting back and lighting it.  No sense in being this angry this early in the day, he figured.  He inhaled deeply, letting the smoke sit in his lungs as long as possible.  A few more hits like that, and his anger was giving way to a much lighter mindset.  
          The first step in this whole process was admitting that he couldn't take on the world.  No matter what his ego said, no matter what the drugs said, he couldn't do it.  He was weak.  He needed Mark.  Fuck, how long had he been trying to go on without him?  And how many of these songs ended up being messages to him?

** True love is something that comes easy.  Just one kiss, god, I swear I want to... **

_The headlights of Mark's car illuminated the darkness around two boys at the skate park.  The taller one was out of breath, his shirt hanging loosely off him, parts of it sticking to his sweat soaked skin.  He'd just finished showing Mark his coolest new trick._  
        _"That was pretty rad, right?  And I fucking landed it without looking like a doof!"_  
_Mark smiled and high-fived Tom when he sat down beside him.  His eyes were on his shoelaces, and Tom knew Mark was a million miles away._  
_"What the fuck, man?  Where are you?"_  
_"What?  Fuck, I'm sorry.  It was a cool trick."_  
_"No, dude, I mean, your mind is obviously on something else.  What's up?"_  
_A sigh came from Mark's throat.  Should he tell him?  He could leave the scary part out, but Tom knew him better than anyone, so it was inevitable that he would tell him one way or the other._  
_"Dude, I don't.. um.."  He was nervous._  
_"Spit it out, old man."_  
_"Fuck you."_  
_"Come on, just say it."_  
_"I'll say it as soon as you take back the 'old man' comment, asswipe."_  
_"Okay, fine, you're not old.  You're super young.  You're like a newborn baby, bald and slimey."_  
_Mark smiled again.  Leave it to Tom to lighten the mood.. and then immediately kill it once more._  
_"So what is it?"_  
_"I think.." Mark hesitated.  Was he really ready to admit this?  Shit.  Might aswell get it over with.  Besides, Tom would get it out of him sooner or later.  "I think I'm inlove with someone."_  
_A million feelings welled up in Tom's chest.  Atfirst he was jealous, because he knew it wasn't him, as much as he hoped and wished it would be.  Then he was happy, because Mark deserved to be happy.  Who was he to be bitter about it?  His eyes studied Mark's face; he knew he was waiting for a response, but all Tom could do was stare at his lips and wish that they would meet his own._  
_He snapped out of it.  "That's awesome, man.  Are you sure?  Who is it?"_  
_Mark looked away, almost like he was embarrassed, and said, "It doesn't matter, they don't feel the same way."_  
_"How do you know that?  Did you ask her?"_  
_"No, but.. I just know."_  
_"But how do you know?"_  
_"Just drop it.  It's impossible."_  
_Tom knew that tone.  He knew Mark was serious.  His curiosity was killing him, but he let it go and didn't bring it back up again._

** I heard a pin drop and a nervous heartbeat.  Have you ever heard me scream I love you? **

          Tom laughed to himself.  He was pretty high by this point, having rolled about three more joints and sucked them down, followed by a few very generous shots of whiskey.  He missed those times.  If only he'd had the guts then to tell Mark how he felt, they could have began their true relationship so much sooner.  Maybe things play out the way they're supposed to, though.  Maybe then just wasn't the time.  The time did come, though -- oh boy, did it ever, and oh did they have fun with it.  Just like all relationships, though, they had their ups and downs.

 _Mark sat silently, his eyes darting around the room and landing on Tom.  Sizing him up.  Judging him.  Tom could feel it, and he knew why.  It wasn't a secret -- Mark hated Box Car Racer.  He hated that Tom did something without him.  He hated that he didn't feel as important to Tom as Tom was to him._  
          _Tom shifted nervously.  They were the only two in the room, and you could cut the tension with a knife.  His eyes were fixated on his hands in his lap, fidgeting silently.  What was Mark going to say?  What was this going to turn into?  They were like this all the time now -- awkward, silent, angry._  
_Suddenly, Mark was on his feet, making his way over to Tom.  Tom flinched; he didn't know what to expect.  The older man stood over him, glaring down at him with a mixture of pain and anger in his eyes.  He remained silent.  Tom could hear his heartbeat loud in his ears._  
_"Why?"  That's all he said.  One simple question.  The one question Tom didn't have an acceptable answer to._  
_"I just.. I wanted to try.. different.."  He was stuttering.  Mark was unbelievably intimidating right now.  He knew he owed him answers, but what answers did he have to give?_  
_Mark sighed, giving up, because he knew nothing that would come from the younger boy's mouth would be an acceptable answer to wash away all the pain he caused.  He walked away, giving up on ever feeling worth it to Tom again._  
_Right before Mark made it to the door, Tom yelled, "I fucking love you!"_  
_It wasn't enough.  It was bullshit.  Love doesn't leave someone out like that.  Mark hesitated.  He turned around for a brief second, a part of him hoping they could salvage this.  Tom's eyes lit up for a moment, thinking that maybe, just maybe, what he'd said made a difference.  Then common sense took over, and he knew it couldn't be fixed.  They both knew it.  Mark continued making his way out the door.  He left.  Tom was alone._

** This room is safe and sound.  Will you lay here with me and feel it? **

          One more joint was rolled up and lit.  The whiskey had been put away.  It wasn't doing him any good.  Tom laid on the floor as he smoked, letting his eyes fall over all the blink memorabilia littering his walls.  He felt safe here.  Nothing could hurt him here.  Nothing new, atleast.  Sure, seeing Mark's face on his walls stung, but he welcomed it.  He loved seeing his face, especially when it was smiling, like in all the pictures surrounding him.  He smiled.  
            He remembered when he used to lay in the studio floor with Mark, bouncing ideas off eachother, acoustic guitar resting across Tom’s torso.  That’s how they came up with “Fuck A Dog.”  A wider smile crept across his face at the memory.  Mark and Tom always had a thing for the floor; it’s where they felt safe.  It’s where Tom felt safe now.  He had a good feeling inside him.  He knew exactly what to do next,

** I think I like today.  I think it's good.  It's something I can't get my head around. **

            It was time.  Time for Tom to write a song, just for Mark, just for blink.  It was time for him to say what he needed to say, and fuck, did he have a lot to say.  Tom sat up with a smile on his face.  It was time to make his biggest effort to resolve this.


	10. Start The Machine

** The ash set in then blew away.  It’s getting lost into the sea.  I grew so close to all the thoughts I had to leave forever.  I left the chill and voice of screams and kids and ran for shelter. **

         Have you ever loved something so much and watched it be destroyed?  What's more, while it was burning to the ground, did you just sit back and watch?  
         blink was gone.  **Destroyed.**   Burned to nothing.  Tom just watched, a part of him glad to be done with it.  He'd wanted a break for awhile, and he was going to fucking get it.  His wife, his kid -- he missed them.  He was always away from them.  That was his excuse, anyway.  It wasn't just an excuse, but it definitely wasn't his only reason for wanting it to be over.  
         Mark.  Mark was so indifferent towards him now.  Nothing was fun anymore; it was all just tense and stressful.  They were strangers.  Hostile strangers.  
         So he ran -- just like the fucking child he is.  He ruined everything.  He ran away from the fans, the fame, the glory.  He fucking ran away and hid, locking himself in his studio where he felt safe.  They couldn't get to him here.  The pain couldn't get to him.  _Mark couldn't get to him here._

** I see a glow from far away, a faint reflection on the sea.  I left some words quite far from here to be a short reminder.  I laid them out in stone in case they need to last forever. **

         Throughout all this, though, Tom realized how wrong he was.  The pain most definitely found him, and it was relentless.  Everyday, he ached for his bestfriend.  He longed for their dick jokes, their hugs, their understanding of eachother.  Sure, he got along with his other bandmates, but they weren't Mark.  No one else could fill Mark's shoes.  
         So he hoped against hope that maybe, just maybe if he said the right thing, if he wrote the right lyrics, if he made a song beautiful enough to get to Mark, that blink could be a thing again.  Atleast, he hoped, that he could salvage his relationship with Mark.  
         He left messages for him throughout the entire album he was writing.  In one song, he talked about words he left in stone. _"My love will not die, please let it be known."_   Who the fuck else would that be for?  Mark knew Tom well enough to find the hidden messages in his songs, and he was sure that if Mark would only listen to this album, he would get it.  He had to.  It was all Tom had left.

** You know I won't say sorry.  The pain has a bad reaction -- a blend of fear and passion.  Do you know what it's like to believe?  It makes me wanna scream. **

         However, Tom was a proud man.  He couldn't bring himself to apologize.  Not outright.  The words "I'm sorry" could not leave his lips at this point.  Not infront of Mark, anyway, because he wasn't the only one who was wrong.  So what, he ran away, but Mark alienated him ages before that.  Years.  
         Besides, what if he did say he was sorry and Mark rejected him?  He couldn't handle that.  It was a terrifying thought.  He would be putting himself out there, again, just be shot down, again.  Tom didn't know Mark anymore; he didn't know how he would react to Tom spilling his guts.  That's why he decided to do it through this album.  
         Tom wanted to believe there was hope.  He wanted to believe that Mark still felt something for him, that maybe Mark wanted blink to be a thing again.  It was a far away dream, but it was all he had to hold onto.  He needed that.  He needed something to hold on to.

** I see the stars, they’re in your eyes.  A playful kiss, can you tell I'm excited? **

_It was late.  The stars were out. They were hard to see with all the light pollution.  Tom looked up and enjoyed what he was able to see.  Had he knocked on the door?  Fuck, he didn't remember.  He knocked and waited patiently, eyes still up on the skies.  Mark came to the door._  
        _"Tom, what are you doing here this late?"  It looked like Mark had just crawled out of bed.  Leave it to Hoppus to go to bed before midnight._  
 _"It's a nice night, I figured we'd go out for a drive," Tom said, grinning because he knew Mark would ultimately agree._  
 _"Do you know what time it is?"_  
 _"Time for you to stop being an old fuck."_  
 _"Fuck you."  Mark turned around and walked back inside, leaving the door open for Tom to follow._  
 _This wasn't unusual, Mark should expect this by now.  Tom was at his best late at night; that's when he was most adventurous and got his best ideas.  One of the perks of being his bestfriend, if you asked Tom._  
 _Mark's place was nothing special by any standards.  Ugly faded blue couch, coffee table, tv against the wall.  It was special to Tom, though -- this is where he came to escape everything. Mark's house was his safe haven._  
 _"Are you ready, yet, fucko?"  Tom was an impatient child sometimes._  
 _Mark came back in the living room, fumbling with one of his shoes and trying to get it on properly.  He grabbed his keys.  "Stop your whining, let's go."_  
 _"Yes!"  Tom was out the door and at the car before Mark could say anything, but what was left to say really?  He just smiled.  He loved the way Tom was.  He walked to the car and stared at Tom for a second before unlocking the doors._  
 _Tom stared back.  In that moment, all the stars in the sky couldn't compare to the look that shown in Mark's eyes.  It caught Tom off-guard, and his impatient fidgeting subsided while he got lost in the two oceans infront of him._  
 _"What, do I have something on my face?"_  
 _Moment over._  
 _They drove for awhile, blasting whatever crappy mixtapes Mark had in his car and singing loudly._  
 _"Candy," Tom mentioned._  
 _"Noted," said Mark.  He pulled into the nearest gas station, and they came out with a bag full of assorted candies._  
 _Then they were back in the car, Tom leaned over and gave Mark a quick kiss and a smile.  Mark smiled back.  Tom was excited.  He was always excited to be doing shit like this.  It made Mark's heart soar._  
 _Fully stocked and ready to go, go they did.  Where?  No idea.  Just somewhere away from the city, somewhere they could lay on the hood of the car and Tom could point out constellations. Anywhere but here.  That was always their destination.  Anywhere but here._

** I'm on my knee, just want to start a fresh new start; don't be undecided. **

         The pen in his hand scratched out words from the paper he was writing on.  He had to say just the right thing.  It had to be perfect.  It had to be something to win Mark back.  Even if he couldn't win Mark back completely, he could get a response from him. Something.  _Anything._  
         He needed Mark to make his mind up.  After all the shit he did in interviews -- avoiding talking about it, telling Tom to man up, skirting his way around the questions -- it was time for him to say something one way or the other.  Either say blink is dead, or say there's hope.  This wasn't something he could just leave hanging anymore.  Tom couldn't let him.

** If love’s a word that you say, then say it; I will listen. **

         God, he hoped this would work.  He hoped beyond hoped beyond hoped that Mark would listen to this album.  He was counting on it.  He was counting on his curiosity getting the best of him. If he would just say something, Tom would listen.  He would always be listening for what Mark had to say.  Whether it be an interview, a song, anything, Tom ached to hear Mark say he still cared for him -- that he still loved him.  
         Tom put the pad and pen down on the table infront of him and sat back with a sigh.  He'd done all he could.  This would have to work.  Resigned, he got up and opened the door to his studio, just in time to see Ava running past.  He scooped her up and planted kisses on her forehead.  
         "How's my babygirl?"  
         "Good," she said wiping the kisses off her face.  "Wanna play hide and seek with me, daddy?"  
         "Okay, you go hide, and I'll count to one hundred."  
         She giggled.  "Okay, but no peeking!"  Then she ran off in search of the perfect hiding spot.  
         Tom smiled to himself and covered his eyes.  If Mark ignored him, atleast he would still have this.  Atleast he would still have **her.**   That was a love he could never lose.


End file.
